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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 8,347 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, attempted sexual assault, discussions of trauma, typical TWD A/N: This is Part 1 of the new miniseries! This should be 2 or 3 parts total, and it's kind of intense and a bit dark at certain points so heed the warnings ya'll. Summary: Y/N is considered quiet, standoffish, and even a bit odd by the group, but Daryl knows how much she does around camp to care for everyone. After a traumatic incident while searching for Sophia, Daryl starts to discover why Y/N is the way she is.

Your name: submit What is this?

The group was all sitting around the low campfire, eating some breakfast. The two Greene girls came out with baskets in hand. Beth approached Rick and held hers out. “We have some more eggs for you all. Our hens lay more than we can eat,” she said.

Rick gratefully accepted them with an earnest look and a nod. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“And some potatoes,” Maggie offered. Lori grabbed her basket.

“Really, you all are being so kind. If there’s anything we can do to help around the place just let us know,” she said.

Beth was looking off into the distance at you sitting alone, away from the group, your back to the farmstead. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, without really thinking.

“Beth!” Maggie scolded her.

“Well, I—I just mean she never eats with ya’ll. She seems like she’s always off on her own,” Beth explained, a little sheepish from her sister’s scolding.

The rest of the group was looking your direction now too, many of them asking the same questions in their minds.

“C’mon, now. That’s enough,” Maggie said. “Daddy needs help with the laundry.”

The group watched them head back to the farmhouse and Shane was the next one to break the silence. “It’s a fair question,” he said, chuckling to himself wryly, glancing back over his shoulder at you before leaning in to grab another helping of breakfast. “She hasn’t exactly meshed into the fabric of the group, has she?”

“Shane, give it a rest,” Lori said sternly.

“No offense meant but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say more than two words at a time,” Andrea said. “You can’t pretend like there isn’t something… odd there.”

Dale hummed. “Not that it’s really our business, but she’s never said anything about what happened to her before we found her out by the quarry. I’ve tried to ask her about her family, what she used to do before all this,” he shrugged vaguely. “Never got a thing out of her. That’s her right if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but it does seem a little strange.”

“That’s all I’m sayin’,” Shane said. “Somethin’ weird with that girl,” he trailed off.

Daryl stood up, annoyed. “Ya’ll are a buncha busy body gossips. If ya’d open your damn eyes for two seconds you’d realize she does more for this group than most of ya combined,” he growled. “She gathered that wood burnin’ in your fire right there. Them mushrooms mixed in with your damn eggs, who the hell ya think found those? Ya think they just magically appeared along with that stuff you’re usin’ to make tea every night?” He tossed his empty plate down on the grass and scoffed. “People who don’t trust easily usually got a damn good reason. ’M outta here.”

Shane watched him go in slight amusement, but most of the others looked a little ashamed of themselves. Daryl was right, of course. You did do a lot for the group. You just kept to yourself. You didn’t make a big show of bringing back some meat or foraged food. You never complained when Rick or Shane asked you to do something. You took more than your fair share of the night watches. And the fact that no one knew anything about your past, the fact that you didn’t talk much, didn’t need any explanation to Daryl. Based on his own background, he could guess there was a reason you were the way you were.

A short time later, Daryl noticed you gathering up your pack and grabbing your pistol and recurve bow. He wandered over as you were snapping your knife into its sheath at your hip. “Ya headin’ out to search again?” he asked softly. You and him seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t completely given up hope of finding Sophia. You simply nodded once.

“Alright,” Daryl drawled. “What’s your plan?” Asking a question that wasn’t a simple yes or no was always a toss-up with you. Half the time he’d get a short answer, half the time he wouldn’t.

“North side of the ridge,” you said. Your voice was always quiet and measured. The archer usually wished most people would talk less, but with you he always hoped to hear more. The little that you said was purposeful and deliberate. There was no idle bullshit.

He nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Alright. I’ll start by that creek and work along the south side. We can be close by in case either of us gets into trouble with walkers,” he said.

You simply nodded again and gave him a long thoughtful look. You did that a lot. Daryl had the feeling there was a lot going on behind your eyes, but you never spoke any of it. Surprisingly, he never felt nervous or uncomfortable when you looked at him like that. He just hoped someday maybe you’d open up a little bit more. The next moment you had turned and were heading toward the tree line already. Daryl scrambled to gather his gear and set off after you.

He could see your figure ahead, disappearing into the brush and soon he couldn’t see or hear you at all. He set out along the south side of the ridge as planned, picking his way along the creek, scrutinizing every inch of ground and hoping for a shoeprint.

Along the north side you were doing the same. You frequently knelt to examine some little scrape in the litter or soil and as you went you filled the little cloth bag you carried with edible and medicinal plants, berries, and fungi. The day wore on with no sign of the little girl and your frustration and fear grew even as the sun reached its apex in the sky and started to drift back down toward the western horizon.

You turned and started picking a new path back, heading toward the farm now rather than away. The deepening shadows made detecting print or trail more difficult but you kept your focus sharp on the ground as you moved, your bow slung over your shoulder next to your quiver.

You were becoming tired when you noticed an impression in the mud. You knelt, one knee of your jeans sinking into the damp soil. It was a boot print, but certainly not left by Sophia. You stared at the detail of the sole impression and your brow drew down low immediately. You have everyone’s shoe designs memorized. It wasn’t one you recognized. Your eyes drifted up and you could see a worn trail through the underbrush and more prints, heavy in the mud. There were at least three men who had left this trail, and they weren’t walkers. The path was straight ahead with no stagger and you could tell they were picking their way through the underbrush. You crouched and started to follow the trail. You needed to get eyes on these people. They were awfully close to the farm… Close enough, certainly, to see the smoke rising from the chimney and your fire circles.

You ghosted through the woods following the trail, moving as silently as you could. You’d been on the path for probably ten minutes when you could hear careless, noisy movement ahead. You must have caught up with them. Your heart hammering in your chest, you stayed low and crept closer. As you moved around a partially downed tree you could finally see the shapes of two men ahead. They were scruffy and filthy, clearly living on the move in the woods. You needed a closer look. You wanted to see what kinds of weapons they had on them. If you could scout out the group, you could determine whether something needed to be done about them or not.

As you tried to shift to another patch of concealing cover, you didn’t notice your bow catching on a low hanging dead branch. By the time you felt the resistance it was too late. The whole branch pulled loose with a loud snapping sound as it bent and cracked other dried branches and twigs on its way down. The two men you had been watching spun immediately and had weapons raised, rifles pointed in your direction. You were swearing under your breath and instantly on your feet aiming your pistol right back.

“Well, shit! What the hell do we have here?” one of the men asked, shifting a little to get a better look at you. “You alone out here, sweetheart?”

You fell an immediate swell of anger and dread rising up in your chest.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” the second man asked, grinning and revealing teeth that were tobacco stained and yellow.

“What’s a fine little thing like you doing out here by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? There are all kinds of monsters in these woods,” the first man said, looking you up and down thoroughly. His companion laughed.

Fuck. This was bad. Why had you pushed your luck and crept in so closely? Now you were outnumbered and you knew there was at least one other man somewhere that you didn’t have eyes on.

Your chest was heaving with anxious breaths from the rush of adrenaline. The first man stepped a bit closer again and you responded by taking a measured step back, your pistol aimed squarely at his chest. Now what? Should you make a run for it? Would they shoot you? Based on the animalistic looks in their eyes you knew things could go very bad, very quickly if you couldn’t get the fuck out of there. Your mind was whirring.

Suddenly, you heard a stick crack behind you and you turned instinctively to see a third man now rushing you. He landed a fist into your jaw and your vision went black as you fell to the ground, holding onto your pistol as tightly as you could. The pain radiating from your jaw into your head was overwhelming. You blinked, willing the darkness to clear, but it lingered as you suddenly felt rough hands on you, rolling you over and ripping both your bow and rifle from your back.

You struggled blindly and managed to get yourself onto your back again as the darkness in your eyes faded instead to the outlines of blurred shapes. You could make out the shape of the man standing over you and you instinctively raised your pistol and squeezed several rounds which sounded like cracks of thunder in the close woods. You missed, the scene still foggy, and you immediately squeezed again and discharged another round but the man leapt down on you with a wild yell, knocking your arm to the side and pinning it into the ground. His weight pressed down on you and you were vaguely aware of an acrid smell filling your nostrils, causing bile to rise up in your throat. He pried your pistol from your hand and tossed it away into the brush.

You writhed beneath him, struggling to get clear of his grasp but he was much bigger than you and soon there was another set of hands on you. You were rolled onto your stomach again and your arms were pulled back behind you and held painfully tight.

“We got ourselves a wild cat here, boys!” one of the men laughed. “Get her up,” he ordered. You were pulled roughly onto your feet, still trying to blink away the remaining fuzziness in your eyes and struggling against your captor.

The first man, who seemed to be the leader, paced over, watching you with a look of satisfaction on his face as you still tried to fight loose. His rifle was now dropped casually by his side. He grabbed your chin cruelly and pulled it up so you looked right into his eyes. His fingers dug into the tender spot on your jaw where the other man had hit you. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he murmured silkily.

You yanked your face from his grasp and he chuckled, glancing back at the other man standing just behind him. “She’s a good one,” he said, a sick smirk on his face. He looked back at you and his eyes roamed perversely over your body. “This’ll be fun.”

He turned violent and grabbed the front of your light cotton shirt, ripping it harshly down off one shoulder, tearing the breezy plaid fabric easily and popping off the first three buttons. The man holding you only tightened his grip. Your throat constricted so tightly it was hard to breathe. You felt like your heart was beating so hard that it would surely burst. You could feel everyone’s eyes on your newly bared skin. Next the leader withdrew a knife and pressed the point into the center of your chest just above your bra. You cringed at the feeling of the biting cold metal pricking your skin.

He stepped close into you and moved the knife up to your throat, pressing it to the side of your neck and drawing it lightly across your skin just enough to cut you. You winced and shut your eyes, trying to keep as still as possible with that blade to your throat and you soon felt a rivulet of warmth rolling down toward your collarbone. You opened your eyes as the knife left your throat and he slipped it under your exposed bra strap, rotating it and lifted up until the fabric started to separate along the sharp edge. Finally, it gave and the strap hung loosely down. He sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth, his eyes hungry and crazed. “This will be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate. Then again… I like a woman with some fight in her,” he snarled. “Your choice.” His companions let out more appreciative laughter as fear twisted your stomach.

You felt yourself going numb. Suddenly, you couldn’t feel any pain anymore. You couldn’t feel the man’s hands pinning your arms back. You couldn’t feel the blood that was now running down your chest. Your eyes drifted to the leader’s cold, blue blade and then unfocused so the scene simply became a haze. And you suddenly realized that they hadn’t taken your knife. It was still in its sheath on your hip…

A short distance away, Daryl had been thinking that it was probably about time to call it a day and head back when he heard a series of loud gunshots. His body went rigid and he turned frantically, staring off into the brush. He strained his hearing to its limit. They’d definitely come from your direction. Abandoning any other thought, he sprung into motion, racing through the woods as fast as he could in the direction he thought the blasts had come from.

Back in camp, everyone else had heard the shots too. Shane turned and looked at Rick, his gaze intense.

“Were those gun shots?” Lori asked, fear in her voice.

“Yeah,” Rick said, rising to his feet and rushing to grab his gun from the stash of weapons in the RV. “Shane, T, Glenn, let’s go! The rest of you stay here!”

Hershel stepped out onto the porch and watched the group of men racing across the pasture toward the trees. He had a bad feeling in his gut. Maggie and Beth came out, the slamming screen door punctuating the piercing silence that fell after the shots.

Daryl smashed through the brush carelessly, his eyes scanning the ground for a trail, any trail, something to follow. Finally, his eyes locked on boot prints that were surely yours. He vaguely registered that there were much larger impressions in the soil too, several different boots much larger than yours. And they certainly weren’t from walkers.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. He froze and scanned the thick greenery. He strained his hearing again, listening for some sound, anything, to give him an idea of what was happening. Please don’t let me be too late, he thought frantically. He took off again but more cautiously, following the tracks you had clearly also discovered. Probably what had led you right into something…

Rick and the others were well into the trees now but Shane stopped everyone. “Rick, what the hell are we doin’ man? We don’t have a clue where Y/N and Daryl are. We can’t just go blindly crashing through here or we’re gonna end up in a bad spot too.”

Rick’s eyes frantically whirred over the seemingly endless tree trunks.

“Wait—I saw Y/N’s map yesterday. She had the whole thing sectioned out into search areas,” Glenn said. “Most of them were already crossed off.”

“Well, which ones weren’t?” Shane urged, checking to make sure there was a round chambered in his gun.

“Uhh—” Glenn’s mind raced. “I think—I think by that ridge, straight north of here. But I can’t be sure,” he trailed off.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face. They all listened for any sound, but the woods were oppressively silent now. “Shit…” he cursed under his breath.

“It’s the best we got,” T gasped, out of breath from the frenetic dash from camp.

Rick nodded. “Alright. Then we head north. Keep your heads on a swivel and your eyes peeled for any sign of Y/N or Daryl.”

Daryl moved as swiftly along the trail as he could. Suddenly, he spotted something lying on top of the litter out of the corner of his eye. Your pistol. Daryl grabbed it and the muzzle was still warm. Clearly, you’d been the one to fire at least some of those shots. “Fuck. Fuck…” He tucked it into his waistband and moved more cautiously now. His heart was pounding and sweat was pouring down his forehead. His knuckles were white on his crossbow. He rounded a downed tree and froze when he saw a dark shape on the ground ahead. His heart dropped into his stomach. Please don’t let it be Y/N… He was almost paralyzed with fear but he forced himself to take another couple steps. As he rounded the brush and straightened up, he knew it wasn’t you but his apprehension didn’t evaporate. It was a large man, clearly dead, completely covered in blood. The hair on the back of Daryl’s neck suddenly stood on end and he spun around, his crossbow up to his eye, ready to fire. But he dropped it involuntarily as he took in the scene before him, his jaw dropping partially open and his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was seeing.

You were standing there in front of him trembling from head to toe, your hands out in front of you with your knife clutched in one like it was a lifeline. Daryl could easily see the shakiness in your hands. You were completely covered in blood. Your clothing and skin were soaked in it, like you’d bathed in a crimson river. There was thick splatter on your face, neck, and chest. Your eyes were wide and fixed and you didn’t show any awareness that he was there in front of you. Daryl registered that your shirt was torn down from one shoulder and your bra strap had been cut. He didn’t need an explanation to know what the fuck had happened and rage swelled in his chest, stoking an intense fire. His eyes drifted down to two more bodies lying at your feet, each with uncountable stab wounds and one with his throat cut, his clothing drenched. The metallic smell of blood was in the air and Daryl could almost taste it on his tongue.

Still you showed no awareness that he was there. You seemed frozen, catatonic. He now registered that you had slash wounds through the fabric of your sleeves and cuts on your arms. Defensive wounds where you had blocked a knife attack. There was a purposeful cut partially up the hem of your jeans at the bottom, clearly from one of the men… It was nearly impossible to tell if you were hurt anywhere else because there was just so much blood…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmured. “Y/N?” He took a cautious step toward you. “Y/N? Can ya hear me?”

Nothing. No reaction at all.

Just then Daryl heard the noise of several people in the woods nearby and he planted himself between you and the sound, raising his crossbow. “Ya better get the fuck outta here unless ya want an arrow between the eyes!” he roared.

Rick straightened up. That was Daryl. “Daryl?!”

Daryl gulped. “…Rick?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Shane, Glenn, and T! We’re comin’ to you! Are you alright?”

Daryl glanced back at you again. You were still just standing there shaking. “‘M fine. Wasn’t me who fired…” Daryl swung his pack off his back and dug inside it.

The men crashed through the underbrush and came into view, taking in the scene. “Oh my God.” The words spilled from Glenn’s lips. They were all glancing from the bloody bodies on the ground to your blood-soaked figure.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane uttered, pacing closer and bending to look at the slash wound in the one corpse’s neck. Daryl finally laid hands on his poncho and yanked it out of his bag. He turned to look at you and began approaching cautiously. “Y/N? It’s Daryl. Can ya hear me?”

Nothing.

Rick was slack-jawed as he looked at the scene. “Daryl… be careful,” he cautioned, eyeing the knife still gripped in your fist.

Daryl glanced back at him. “She ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me,” he drawled.

“Do you see this?” Glenn asked him urgently indicating the bodies. “This is insane. You don’t know that! She looks completely out of it, like she doesn’t even know we’re here!”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he turned back to look at you again. “Don’t ya fuckin’ see her? She’s terrified. Look at her clothes. They were tryin’ to rape her,” he growled. “They deserve what they got.”

Shane straightened up from examining the bodies, glancing furtively over at you. “Maybe but… on the force, we’d call this ‘overkill’,” he said, backing up and exchanging a glance with Rick.

Daryl ignored him. “Y/N? It’s alright. You’re safe. Nobody is gonna hurt ya. Just lemme take your knife, okay?” There was no recognition on your face, your eyes still wide and fixed, until Daryl’s hand gently closed over yours and started to open your hand around the handle of your knife. He could feel you shaking beneath his fingers. “S’alright,” he said softly as your eyes landed on his face and then locked with his. Your brow drew down low, casting a shadow over the vaguely confused look on your face. As Daryl gently took your knife, he could see there was a very deep gash in your palm. It was bleeding heavily. He guessed it was either another defensive wound from you putting your hands up to stop one of the men’s knives or otherwise your hand, slick with blood, had slipped down onto your own blade when you’d been fighting them. “Glenn, get some gauze out of my pack and bring it over here,” he said. He spoke calmly and softly. He glanced back over at Glenn when he didn’t move from his slack-jawed frozen position. “Glenn. Gauze.” Glenn snapped himself out of it and went to Daryl’s bag. The archer gulped and draped his poncho over you, covering your ripped shirt. “S’alright,” he murmured again.

You didn’t take your eyes off his face. He wasn’t even sure if you realized the others were there. Glenn walked forward and handed Daryl the small roll of sterile gauze before backing up slowly. The look in your eyes was haunted and dazed and it left all of them feeling empty and concerned.

Daryl opened your hand flat and your eyes drifted down to watch him wrap the bandage over the wound on your palm. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t really feel anything, except Daryl’s hands on yours.

Shane turned to Rick. “Rick, what the hell are we gonna do about this? We can’t just waltz her back into camp covered in blood. You don’t want the others seein’ this… Carl? Lori? Or Hershel. Look at her. She looks completely unstable. This might be enough for him to kick us out right now.” He looked back at you over his shoulder.

Rick sighed heavily. “So, we’ll get her cleaned up first.”

Daryl was keeping one ear on the conversation going on behind him. “She needs stitches on this hand,” he drawled. “And who knows how else she’s hurt. Can’t see a damn thing on her right now. And since ya’ll are more worried about yourselves than her, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl growled.

Glenn stepped forward. “We are worried about her. But you have to admit that this is—this is—” He didn’t even know what word to use. Daryl just stared at him. You were hugging your arms around yourself now, still shaking. Your eyes were downcast, staring unseeing at the ground.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit what ya do. I’m gettin’ her outta here and taken care of.” He hastily shouldered his pack and his crossbow.

“Just—Daryl,” Rick started, pinching the bridge of his nose, the situation weighing on him heavily. “Clean her up a bit before you take her to Hershel to be looked over.”

The archer eyed him through a narrow glare for a moment before he nodded. He turned back to you, your frame swallowed up in his poncho. “C’mon. Let’s get ya home,” he said gently. Your eyes snapped up to his face again and you allowed him to lead you back toward the farmstead.

He picked a path carefully and finally the two of you broke out from the edge of the forest. The others back in the camp were staring at the tree line, wracked with nerves. Lori straightened up as she recognized movement. “Dale—someone just stepped out.”

Dale, standing on the RV, raised his binoculars to his eyes. “Oh my,” slipped from his lips.

“What? Who is it?” Carol asked anxiously.

“I think it’s Y/N and Daryl,” Dale said. “I can’t quite tell properly, but I think something is wrong with Y/N.” He squinted into the binoculars again. “My God. Her jeans are covered in blood and it—it looks like there’s blood on her neck, her face…”

Carol pressed a hand over her mouth. “Is she hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was she bit?”

Dale shook his head, lowering the binoculars again. “They’re too far. I can’t tell what’s going on.”

Daryl looked up to see everyone standing almost in a line watching the two of you as you started across the field. He gulped and then put a hand lightly on your back, nervous and unsure of how you would react to the contact. He guided you toward his camp which was closest and was set apart from everyone else’s.

“C’mon and sit down, alright. We’re just gonna clean ya up a bit and then take ya to Hershel.” The look in your eyes was worrying him immensely but you sat down on a round of wood pulled up near the fire ring. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he could reassure you. “Hey. S’alright. You’re safe.”

You met his blue eyes and he finally saw some sense of relief in them. His stomach flipped at the way they softened and he nodded. He took in the sight of you in his poncho again and realized you’d need something else to wear to go see Hershel that wasn’t half ripped off you. “I’m gonna, uhh—” he cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll put a clean shirt out on my cot for ya. Ya can change in in my tent and then we’ll just clean ya up a bit, alright?” He knew better than to wait for a response and climbed to his feet and disappeared into his tent to set the clothes out. He dug around in his duffel bag until he found one that was still folded tightly, definitely clean, and he set it out for you. You watched the handsome archer reemerge from inside his tent and nod his head toward it. “Alright. Go ahead. I’ll just be right out here.”

He watched you get up and disappear, zipping the door behind you. He paced in front of the fire circle, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully as the image of you standing there in the woods, frozen, absolutely soaked in blood with your shirt half torn surged forward in his mind and he felt another sickening swell of anger. Jesus. Things could have gone so bad with those men… and they were fucking lucky they were already dead when he got there.

The soft rustling of the tent fabric interrupted his thoughts and you stepped out in his long-sleeved flannel, looking a bit dazed still but more grounded. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “C’mon and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the round of wood again. You sank down on it. Daryl grabbed a bucket of clean water that had been warming in the sun all day. He grabbed a cloth from inside his tent and caught sight of your bloody and torn shirt discarded on the floor, feeling another tight twist between his lungs, like someone had tugged a knot there.

You watched him kneel down in front of you and sink the cloth into the bucket of water, wringing it out before bringing it close to your face. He hesitated short of touching you. “S’this alright?” he drawled.

You gave him a questioning look but finally nodded, just one slight tip of your chin. You closed your eyes as the fabric came in contact with your cheek and Daryl started wiping away the blood. The cloth stained crimson quickly. He cleaned the splatters from across your forehead and your nose and the spots on the other side of your face. With the red stains gone, Daryl could see the shadow of a deep bruise along the side of your jaw. Without thinking he gently clasped your chin and turned your head so he could examine it, a heavy shadow falling over his blue eyes. He sunk the cloth back into the bucket of water and wrung it out again, this time pressing it to the side of your neck.

Despite how gentle he was being, you involuntarily sucked in a sharp hiss of air through your teeth as the cloth found the cut on the side of your neck from the leader’s knife. Your eyes blinked open through your wince.

“Sorry,” Daryl drawled, pulling back to look at the wound. “Jesus… Those assholes had a knife to your neck?” he asked. It was rhetorical and he didn’t expect an answer. He wiped at the blood spatter and you closed your eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and still the trembling you still felt wracking through you. Daryl could hear a shaky quality in your breathing. Soon, your face and neck were clean and Daryl turned his attention to your hands. Your eyes were still shut as he rinsed the cloth out again in the bucket. “Lemme see your hands,” he said softly. You found the deep gravel of his voice comforting.

Out of everyone in your group, you usually felt like Daryl was the only one who really saw you. You’d wanted to get to know him better, but held yourself back. He seemed to seek solitude like you did, and you didn’t want to force yourself into his world.

He took your hand, your palm resting against his, and he swept the cloth lightly over the back of it and down each finger. The sensation sent goosebumps rising on your skin and you glanced up at the concerned and intent expression on his face curiously. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had shown you so much attention and care. He took your other hand in his now, the one with gauze around it and the deep gash in your palm. He rubbed the blood from the back of each finger and then flipped it over in his hand. He frowned as he noticed that your blood had soaked through the bandage. “Probably need stitches on this one,” he murmured softly. The cloth tickled over the underside of each finger now, sweeping off the ends. “Alright. Push up them sleeves,” he said, dunking the cloth into the bucket again for what felt like the hundredth time.

“What?” He was startled by your voice and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He straightened up, one of his eyebrows quirking down at the question. “Ya had a buncha cuts on your arms. We need to clean ‘em up and check ‘em. See if ya need stitches anywhere else.”

You shook your head.

He gave you a questioning look for a long moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Alright. Ya can do it. I’ll just go tell Hershel you’re on your way in, alright?”

You stared at him for another long moment as he set the cloth on the edge of the bucket, whose water was now stained a dark pink. You glanced up as he climbed to his feet and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “C’mon up when you’re done and we’ll get that hand taken care of.”

Daryl started over toward the farmhouse and as he approached Carol rushed up to him. “What happened?” she urged him. “Are you okay? Is Y/N?”

He stopped, his hand on one hip. He glanced back out toward the trees and saw the rest of the group making their way back toward camp across the field. “‘M fine,” he drawled. “Y/N ran into some men out there when we were searchin’.”

“Men? What men? What happened? Is she alright?”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know how to—how to answer that,” he said truthfully.

Confusion muddled Carol’s expression and she glanced in the direction of you over at Daryl’s camp. “Well, what happened?” she asked again.

Daryl looked at her seriously and shrugged vaguely. “Y/N killed ‘em. Didn’t have no choice.” He continued his path up to the house and bounded up the porch steps, knocking on the front door. Carol stared after him, a bit shocked. Maggie answered, looking worried.

“Were those gun shots earlier?” she asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm… Hey, can your dad take a look at Y/N?”

“Of course. What happened?” she asked, holding the screen door open so he could step inside.

Hershel was there in an instant. “Daryl. What happened? We heard those shots.”

“Y/N and I were out lookin’ for Sophia. There were some men. She—she ran into some trouble.”

Hershel took a deep breath and nodded. “Is she alright?”

“I think she needs stitches in her hand. She took a good hit to her jaw too. Might have a concussion. I dunno,” he said. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip again. “I know she’s got some cuts on her arms, defensive wounds, but she wouldn’t let me look at ‘em. Got a cut on her neck.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie said, her hand flying up to her mouth.

“What happened to the men?” Hershel asked.

Daryl quit chewing the side of his thumbnail. “Dead,” he said, watching the old farmer’s reaction closely, but the man’s face was blank. He simply nodded.

“I’ll get my kit. Have her come on in.”

Daryl headed back onto the porch to see how you were doing and you were on your way over. His eyes caught on the dark splatters and stains of blood on your jeans and the slit at the bottom. His stomach twisted. Maybe he should have had you change clothes completely… You were trying to ignore the eyes on you as you made your way over to the house.

Andrea and Lori exchanged a look at the state of your clothes.

“Come on in here and sit down,” Hershel said kindly. “Let’s take a look at that hand.” You offered up your gauze-wrapped hand and Hershel laid it out on the table, unwrapping the already blood-soaked bandage and taking a look at the deep gash. “Pretty deep cut here. Definitely need stitches.” He grabbed a needle from his kit and pricked the end of each of your fingers. They all twitched in response. “You can feel that?” You nodded. “Good. Looks like we dodged any nerve damage. Much deeper and you would have needed major surgery for a cut tendon and who knows what else. Maggie, dear, would you get the sutures set up while I clean this off?”

Nerve damage. Cut tendon. Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his spot leaned up against the wall. You hardly seemed to react to the news at all.

Hershel swabbed at your hand and you shut your eyes against the bite of the alcohol. “Now, Daryl tells me you took a good hit to the jaw. I’m just gonna check it and make sure nothing is broken.” He palpated both sides of your face, across your cheekbones and up your jawline. “Just a bit swollen,” he said. “Did you lose sight when you were hit?” he asked you, grabbing a small pen light and checking the dilation response of each of your pupils. You gulped and nodded. “Do you remember your name?” he asked you. You nodded again. “I need you to answer my questions verbally. I’m interested in your answers but also your speech.”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“When is your birthday?” Hershel asked.

You stared at him. “No one here knows my birthday. How will you know if I’m right or not?”

A small smile grew on Hershel’s face. “I’d say your speech and cognition are fine. Probably a mild concussion though with your eyesight blacking out. You’ll need to take it easy the next few days, rest and fluids, and let me know if you develop any new symptoms like vomiting or nausea, confusion, a worsening headache. Understand?”

You nodded again. “Yes. I understand.”

“Sutures are ready,” Maggie said.

Hershel put on a pair of clean gloves and prepared. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb you,” he said, propping your hand up on a towel so he could see it better.

“It’s alright. I would have told you to save it anyway,” you said. Daryl straightened up from his place against the wall and came to stand next to you. You could feel his eyes on your face.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Hershel said. “Let’s get this taken care of.” You hardly flinched as he passed the needle through…

Outside, Rick and the others were just arriving back at camp. Everyone gathered around and seemed to read on their faces that they were all unsettled.

“Rick,” Lori said, grabbing him into a hug. “What happened? We saw Daryl and Y/N come back. Her jeans were covered in blood.”

Rick looked down at her. “Nothing to worry about. It’s been taken care of.”

“Well, what was it?” Lori pressed him, her eyes still a bit wide and fearful.

Carol spoke up. “Daryl said she ran into some men and they’re—she killed them.”

Glenn and T were avoiding everyone’s eyes while Shane let out a frustrated sigh and paced away from the group, disagreeing with Rick still about the decision not to tell everyone you had clearly gone slasher on those assholes. Provoked or justified or not, Shane felt like that was something everyone should know. He’d gone far enough to describe you as a serial killer before Rick had stood him down. Rick nodded and looked at his wife and then at Andrea and Dale. “Y/N was attacked and she dealt with it. Hershel is gonna patch her up and there’s nothing to worry about.

“What if there are more of those men?” Carol asked fearfully.

“We only ever saw three different boot prints out there,” T reassured her. “But we’ll keep watch like we always do. We’ll be fine.”

Everyone still looked uneasy, but settled back into their tasks. Lori was about to go fetch some more water when Shane grabbed her arm and tugged her around the side of the SUV. She gave him a stern look and pulled her arm from his grasp.

“What?” she snapped at him, a bit unkindly.

“Rick ain’t tellin’ you everythin’,” he said.

Lori just stared Shane with a guarded expression. “I trust my husband. And you used to, too.”

“Yeah, well… What happened out there today? It should concern everyone.” His expression was dark and Lori felt her sense of unease grow.

Shane rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. “Y/N just—” Shane let out a sigh that had the edge of a growl to it.

“What are you talking about?” Lori pressed him in an undertone. “Are we in danger?”

Shane straightened up and pressed his lips into a thin line briefly before meeting her eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m not taking my eyes off that girl.”

Inside, Hershel tied off the final stitch and snipped the suture. “All done.” He applied a layer of antibacterial ointment and wrapped your hand in a fresh dressing. “Try to keep it dry. And I mean it,” he gave you a pointed look, “take it easy for a few days. Daryl, you hold her to that. Anything else you need me to look at? Your arms? Daryl said—” You shook your head no. “Alright.”

The archer straightened up as you climbed to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured to Hershel.

Daryl held the door for you and you cringed at how everyone’s eyes were on you immediately as you stepped out onto the porch. You avoided them and started heading in the direction of your camp. Daryl was still in step beside you and you hazarded a glance in his direction.

He could read a question in your eyes. “I’ll keep ya company for a bit if that’s alright... Besides, ya should be restin’ and somebody needs to make sure ya take care of yourself.” You didn’t say anything, but that also wasn’t a refusal. Daryl could tell you were still reeling a bit, and he wanted to be there just in case.

You arrived at your separate camp area and watched as Daryl immediately went and stirred up the coals in the fire, adding more wood and soon having a nice blaze going. You headed for your tent and glanced back over your shoulder at him. “Just gonna change,” you said softly. He nodded and went about heating something for you to eat along with water for tea. He was sure you had collected more ingredients and remembered that your bag was still sitting at his camp. He jogged to grab it and brought it back along with your bloodied and torn shirt, not sure what else to do with it. When he got back, you were sitting by the fire in clean and comfortable clothes, his shirt resting over your lap. You held it out to him as he dropped your pack beside you.

“Thanks,” he murmured. The fabric was still warm from your body. “Dunno what ya wanna do with this,” he said, holding yours out in turn.

You stared at it for a long moment before your fingers closed on it and Daryl watched as you immediately tossed it into the fire. In a moment, it was only ashes and embers. He sank down beside you and felt you studying him. He turned and met your eyes and was surprised when you spoke. “You aren’t afraid of me now? Like the others?” you asked softly.

“Nah. Why would I be?”

Your striking eyes focused back on the crackling campfire and the embers dancing upward on the warm torrent of air. “You saw what I did. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Daryl peered at you curiously for a long moment. “Ya were only protectin’ yourself. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done worse if I’d been there,” he drawled, and you could hear anger in the tension in his voice.

“I blacked out,” you said suddenly.

“When they hit ya? Ya, yer gonna have a good bruise tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You cradled your injured hand absently in the other. “The last thing I remember was the one starting to cut my jeans and then—then I was just covered in blood and they were all dead. And next thing I know you were taking my knife from me.” You shut your eyes for a moment. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Daryl considered the regretful expression on your face. “Don’t matter. Yer safe. That’s what counts. Those men? They had it comin’.”

You looked up at him in surprise and he simply nodded and then grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water for you. You accepted it and dug into your bag, pulling out the small sack of foraged herbs from the day. You dropped a few berries and leaves into your mug and cradled it with your uninjured hand.

It was nearly sunset and the quality of the light was cooling, oranges turning to reds and then fading into deep purples and inky blues. You allowed yourself to frequently study the archer as he shoved a bowl of reheated stew into your hands or added more wood to the fire. You felt surprisingly at ease with him there and he didn’t seem at all bothered by the passing of so much silence. Maybe the concussion just had you slightly numb, but you didn’t think so.

“You aren’t going to ask me?” you finally said.

Daryl looked over at you and he felt a stirring in his chest at the way the firelight was catching the shine and colors in your hair and the soft shape of your lips. “Ask ya what?”

“How I—Why I—” You didn’t even know how to phrase it really.

Daryl watched you struggled for a moment. “Ain’t none of my business. But if ya wanted to talk about it, I’ll listen. Not gonna lie and say I haven’t wondered about what came before ya were with the group.”

You had been on the verge of speaking it but suddenly lost your nerve and sipped at your tea again. Daryl watched you withdrawing again and rubbed a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. Darkness had fallen completely now. “Well, I’ll leave ya alone. Yer probably sick of me anyway,” he drawled. “Get some rest, alright?” Daryl had climbed to his feet and started to head in the direction of his own tent but your voice froze him.

“It’s not that I want to be alone all the time…” Daryl could hear the crackling of the fire in the silence that followed. “It’s just that alone usually feels safer.”

He glanced back at you, turning partially. “Ya. I know the feelin’,” he said gently, pacing back.

You looked up at him and something about your expression, your wide eyes, went straight to his core. “Stay,” you said quietly. “Please.” You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Being with you feels safer…” you admitted, timidly.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest and nodded. He grabbed a seat beside you again and puzzled over this unprecedented turn of events.

You seemed to come to some decision suddenly and looked over at him intensely. He caught your eyes briefly and then watched as you pushed up your right sleeve. At first all he saw were the knife cuts, crimson against your skin, but you turned your forearm toward him in the firelight. “This is what I didn’t want you to see,” you said. You gulped. You’d never told anyone, never shown anyone, literally never talked about what had happened to you since you got out. You’d vowed that you would just move on, but the longer you suffered in silence the worse it seemed to get, until you felt like it would consume you. And then today, with those men, you’d just completely lost it. It had triggered something, a memory or maybe more like a nightmare, and when you came to you were bathed in blood and didn’t even recognize yourself, couldn’t believe what you’d done. Enough was enough. Maybe if you spoke it, admitted it, dealt with it in some way… maybe it’d get easier.

Daryl stared at a scar on your forearm. It looked like a brand and the skin was still slightly pink, showing that it wasn’t that old. It was four numbers. 1048.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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binniedeactivated · 4 years

Text

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦 (1.4)

[ m.list ]

➦ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

➦ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

➦ 𝐖/𝐂 | 3k

➦ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

➦ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 + 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

POC = person of color

adriana did it often. whenever she had some time for herself in the midst of her hectic school days she would make it her duty to get to the bathroom just so she can fix her makeup. she didn’t wear makeup because she thought it made her beautiful but it covered up the scars her ex made on her skin. she refused for anyone else to see them or even get a slight glimpse of them. she wanted to leave all that in the past. she didn’t want to have to explain her bruises to anyone.

often times he would try to come back. trying to love her the ‘right’ way this time, or trying to swoon her into thinking that he was finally going to be the man she always wanted. only to be the man she always hated yet again. she didn’t want to be in this situation. she was twenty six she wanted a life, she wanted love and she wanted a family. she loved the kids she taught like they were her own of course but she couldn’t wait for the day she would finally be called mommy.

she was starting to like yeonjun. not just for the sex--although that was pretty good too. but she saw him every morning and every afternoon dropping off and picking up his children, hugging them, kissing them, holding them near him at all times. even if he forgot something he would drop it off in the middle of his day or even if the slightest inconvenience happened to them he would drop everything at the drop of a dime. he had even been invested in their school work, their grades and progress, more than adriana has ever seen any dad concerned about their child. she found that she wasn’t just attracted to the sex, but she was attracted to love he had for his kids.

“ms. A! ms.A!”. myla called frantically from her chair while sipping on her juice box. it happened to be lunch time and the children were sitting at their tables happily chatting away while making messes of their faces. adriana touches her back softly,

“yes myla?”.

she points to the bright pink sticky note inside her lunch box. “what does that say?”.

adriana crouches down to her level to get a better look. she clutches the sticky note and reads it loud enough for myla to hear.

“enjoy your lunch myla. have a great day! daddy loves you ♡ “

adriana smiles a bit, “your dad left you a note today. do you want to maybe keep it and put it in your pocket?”.

myla nods excitedly, opening in her pocket for adriana to just shove it in there. she folds it neatly though and places it that way instead. she stands to her feet shortly after.

“ten more minutes left of lunch time guys, make sure you’re eating”. she announces prior to returning to her desk to finish organizing worksheets.

“your dad packs you lunch?”. andrew, one of the children at the table had asked. myla nods while happily biting into an apple slice.

“that’s so weird. packing lunch is for mommies. My mommy packs my lunch”.

“me too!”.

“ou me three!”.

“‘me four!”.

the other children decided to chime in. their small voices were drowned out by the indistinct chatter around the room. myla slouched her shoulders in shame. she hadn’t thought it was weird for her dad to pack her lunch all this time.

“well my daddy likes to pack my lunch”. she decided to say, although not knowing if she was trying convince them or herself.

“your daddy is weird”. Paige says, chewing into her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“he’s not weird don’t talk about my daddy”.

“yes he is. packing lunch is for mommies”. Andrew adds again, licking the oreo icing off the cookie.

myla clenches her small fists growing a little angry at the obnoxious boy. “shut up. daddies can do it too”.

“no they can’t! unless your daddy is a girl. is your daddy a girl?”. he teases, leaving the rest of her lunch table flooding in laughter. myla felt ashamed at each and every kid who laughed at her and made fun of her father. she could feel her cheeks heat and salty tears well in her eyes. she clutched her juice box angrily and threw it at andrew’s face.

“Ow!!”.

“don’t talk about him ever!”.

he rubs his face and sticks out his tongue. “that’s why he’s still a girl!”

“myla! andrew? what is going on?”. adriana rises from her chair behind her desk, only for myla to run straight out of the classroom in full fledge tears.

“you know, you’re really pretty”. daniel complimented his girlfriend Luna. and that she was. she had this pretty black hair that spiraled down her back with bangs along her forehead. she wore these vibrant pastel colored dresses everyday. most importantly though she was sweet to Daniel. and that was something he came to love.

she smiles behind her book at him. It was reading time. yet the duo decided to use the time to whisper to one another instead of reading those boring books that their teacher handed them. “thank you. I showed my mom a picture of you yesterday. she said you’re a cute boy”. daniel chuckles a little. “well tell her I said thank you. It’s been a while since someone has called me that. other than you”.

she strings a piece of hair behind her ear in wonder. “really? my mom always calls me cute. doesn’t yours?”. daniel bites the inside of his cheek in thought. he couldn’t remember the last time his mother even saw him long enough to compliment him. but he wasn’t going to admit that to Luna. he moves his head in uncertainty. “sometimes I guess,”. He lied. “not as much as yours probably though”.

she lays a hand on his shoulder. “well you’re a cute boy daniel”. and that kind of made his heart warm. when Luna reminded daniel of his mother’s shortcomings it was all he could really think about throughout the day. there were a lot of things that he could say his mother hadn’t done for him. for example, most of his friends often bring leftover dinner that their mom cooked to eat at school the next day. or they would talk about the complications of their mom doing their laundry, being too overprotective, nursing them to health when they were sick.

Leah hadn’t done these things since daniel was younger. he only held a faint memory of her making this extravagant dinner one day for his dad’s birthday one year, but that was about it. it never necessarily bothered him because his dad was always there. his dad did his laundry, his dad cooked dinner, his dad was overprotective and his dad took care of him when he sick.

and this was the way it always have been in daniel’s mind. Luna kisses him on the cheek at dismissal before grabbing her jacket and running to her mother’s side. daniel drums his fingers on the table while glimpsing at the both of them. the way she hugged Luna and kissed her forehead, helping her get her jacket on. he could tell she did everything in love, too. daniel wondered if that was why luna was so sweet and kind. he wondered if maybe that’s why he liked her so much.

she had the aura of a mom.

yeonjun approaches the classroom door and myla immediately ran to his legs with a sour expression, to which he he picked her up and allows her head to fall into the crook of his neck. “whats the matter my?”. he whispers, signing his name on the sign out sheet. Adriana advances her way over to them both.

“hey yeonjun. a situation happened with myla and another student today, he was teasing her and she threw her juice box at him. I let myla off with a warning since I don’t tolerate throwing things in my classroom, however since the student was teasing her about personal issues he’s receiving a greater punishment”.

yeonjun nods. “make sure you call me about these types of things alright?”.

adriana’s heart sank. he looked kind of angry but she couldn’t really tell. “will do”. she breathed. damn it. calling him was the one thing she forgot to do.

daniel was glad to leave his classroom when his father arrived. he was already at the door in fact. yeonjun ruffles his hair and pulls him close. After he signed him out though, it was unusual having two silent kids walking with him to the car.

he adjusts the rearview mirror. “myla? what happened at school today?”. she shook her head with a pout at her lips. he knew he was probably going to have to try again when she felt better. it still didn’t stop him from feeling bad though. he nudged daniel next, who was currently staring out the window in the passenger seat.

“what happened with you today?”.

he too gave him a stand-offish response and shrugs his shoulders. he wished he hadn’t let his thoughts get the best of him. he wished it didn’t bother him as much as it did. if only him or myla knew how much their silence and emotions really broke their father’s heart. he’d much rather have them arguing. he decided to reroute himself, choosing to go to one of their favorite destinations.

arriving at pizza planet was one of the best things yeonjun could’ve done. upon arrival myla and daniel could already feel today’s weight lift off their shoulders a little especially with the loud music and obnoxious arcade games blaring at them when they stepped in.

“order whatever you want”. yeonjun says, approaching the food counter with both of them on either side of him. myla clutches his hand, “really? anything?”. yeonjun nods. “yeah anything”. and once the answer was confirmed it took no time for the duo to put in their freakishly odd orders. myla mainly ordered a bunch of desserts that yeonjun knew she didn’t need and Daniel ordered a shitload of pizza. Combined with yeonjun’s order it totaled to quite a dime, but yeonjun didn’t mind at all.

“daddy can we play the games please please please?”.

“yeah can we play the games?”.

“yeah hold on”, yeonjun pauses before pooling out two five dollar bills from his wallet for the both of them. to which they took the money and immediately ran off excitedly to the token exchange machine. Yeonjun laughs in their trail, “wow! no thank you?”.

“thank you daddy!”. they said in unison, rushing to stuff the coins in their pockets.

yeonjun sat at the booth seat and awaited the food although it took a while. the waitress placed everything down neatly around the table.

“so? do you have a girlfriend?”. she asks completely catching yeonjun off guard. she couldn’t look more than seventeen years old.

“married. plus I think you’re a little too young sweetheart”.

she tilts her head a little and smiles with her eyes still focused on getting the drinks on the table. “I’m legal though”.

“no thank you sweetheart”.

in a way it kind of scared him. she was legal sure, but a young adult willing to date a married man with children? it made yeonjun question her morals. especially when she gifted him a small wink before telling him to enjoy his meal.

yeonjun shakes his head in disbelief before calling his kids over to the table. there wasn’t a better feeling to him than seeing them happily munching on their food with attitudes that starkly contrasted the ones they had in the car. he took and napkin and curled it around his finger before wiping the smudged off of myla’s cheeks.

“dad! I finally beat myla in Mario kart”.

“no you didn’t daniel! you’re a cheater”.

“no I won. you just don’t want to admit you lost”.

“I didn’t!”.

“yes you did”.

“don’t worry myla. I’ll teach you how to beat him next time”. yeonjun adds.

“really? do you know how to play?”.

“pft. I’ve been playing Mario kart before you both were even born”.

“that would be cheating! you can’t help her dad that’s not fair”.

myla rolls her eyes choosing to change the subject. “what was I like daddy? when I was born?”.

“very quiet. and sleepy”.

“I didn’t smile or anything?”.

“well when you were a newborn you were kind of mean. you didn’t want anyone to hold you except me”.

myla laughs. “really?”.

“yeah. you were so mean to your mom oh my gosh. you didn’t want to drink milk from the bottle even if she was holding it”.

“was I ever nice?”.

“hm. you were nice when you were just a few months old but only a little bit. you were really calm and relaxed though. you just wanted to play and sleep”.

“what about me?”. daniel asks next.

“oh god, daniel. you were a crybaby”.

myla laughs pointing her finger in his face. “Ha!”.

daniel ignores her though and continues. “what did I cry about?”.

“everything. when you were happy, when you were sad, when you were mad, when you had to sit, when we tried to get you to play, while you were eating. you just cried all the time. we were starting to think you just hated us”.

daniel laughs to himself a bit. “was I good looking?”.

“of course. you and myla were really chubby so it made you even more adorable. you guys always got lots of compliments”.

“more than logan?”.

“No one gets more compliments than logan. not even me”.

daniel decided to playfully tease. “whatever dad we know Logan is your favorite”,

yeonjun laughs. “no he’s not don’t say that. I have no favorites”.

myla sneaks her arms around him. “I’m your favorite right daddy?”.

“why would you be the favorite? you’re annoying”. daniel teases again.

“guys. I have no favorites. you all are my favorites. alright?”.

the both of them scoff wanting him to admit who his favorite was. but they decided they wouldn’t pressure him today since the arcade games were still waiting on them.

***

and being home was like it was every night. yeonjun took care of the household and made sure things were getting done at a reasonable time. but there was always one chore that yeonjun never failed to nag his children about.

“daniel clean your room. what’s that pile of clothes on the floor?”. he points with logan wide awake and clinging to his chest. he stuffs a hand in his mouth and gurgles.

with the gaming headset on daniel didn’t realize how loud his voice actually was. but he was playing over-watch and he failed to lose this mission.

“one more minute dad”.

“do it now. I’m starting laundry soon and I need to know what’s dirty”.

the boy huffs and assures his teammates his return. although his father was being a nag he didn’t hesitate to think the same thoughts he had gotten in school. he was afraid to talk to yeonjun about them. he didn’t want to stress him out more than usual. above all else daniel noticed his mother’s absence during moments such as this and that made him even more grateful for his father.

“thank you. I’m coming back to check”.

daniel wondered if it would be odd to tell him that he loved him at that moment. so he just kept his mouth shut.

you’re annoying but I love you dad, he wanted to say.

thank you for loving me the way that mom doesn’t, he wanted to say.

“myla put your toys in your toy chest. is your laundry basket full?”.

she replies with her eyes still focused on playing with her dolls in her dollhouse. “okay. yes I think”.

yeonjun lugs the basket with him to the door. but myla had a question in mind.

“daddy?”.

“yes?”.

“is packing lunch for mommies?”.

“hm? what do you mean?”.

“the boy at school today said that his mommy packs his lunch. and all the other kids said that their mommies pack their lunch too. what’s wrong if you pack mine?”.

yeonjun’s heart sank. this was the one thing he didn’t want for them.

“there’s nothing wrong me packing it myla. don’t let those kids tell you any different”.

“how come mommy doesn’t do it?”.

“she’s just— she’s just busy. but daddies pack lunch all the time”.

“they do?”.

“yeah. don’t feel bad alright? I do it because I love you and I want to make sure you eat well even while you’re in school. It’s just another form of me showing you how much I love you”.

myla rushes over to hug his legs. it relieved her that he said that. she was starting to think she was just an outcast.

“I love you too”. she whispers.

yeonjun smiles a little and kisses her on her forehead. “I love you more. now go play so I can make sure your brother cleaned his room”.

doing loads of laundry were that bad considering yeonjun always made sure he stayed on top of it all. his kids never had too much dirty clothes so it never took long. “are you ready to do laundry with me logan?”. yeonjun coos to the small baby before opening the washing machine. he turns it on, allowing the water to flood the bottom but something black caught his eye. It happened to be floating in the water.

he reaches his hand down and pulls it out trying to figure out what it was. but once he brought it up for his eyes to see in the light he wasn’t too pleased. it was an opened condom wrapper.

and yeonjun knew it wasn’t his.

#yeonjun #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fanfic #choi yeonjun smut #single father au #smut au

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koutarouthighs · 4 years

Note

christmas stuff always makes me soft 🥺 how about a scenario where bokuto and you have bought each other surprises and you’re trying hard to keep it from each other, but you’re both naturally curious and it’s just fluffy shenanigans.

oh thank you so very much! i wanted to go ahead and just write a little drabble for this one, so here you go! thank you for the request 🥰

relationship: bokuto x f!reader genre: fluff cw: none!

your feet shift against the tile as you wring your hands together, “oh really?” your mind is only half-here, stuck somewhere in the cogs of worry, anticipating him finding your hiding spot and exploiting your surprise for all it’s worth.

“little bird,” his voice is sing-song as he leans back against the counter, cradling a mug of warm tea near his mouth, pressing the bow of his lips to the rim of the cup before pulling his hands away to present his concerned expression, “you’re not with me, are you? is everything all right?”

“huh? o-oh,” you squeeze your eyelids closed to break yourself from the obvious stupor you’ve lulled your mind into as apprehensive fear settles in like a cloud. a nervous chuckle parts your lips and you wrap your arms around your own torso, holding the secret in your ribs and begging it not to escape, “yeah, kou, i-i’m fine! sorry, i’m just tired. lots of christmas shopping and all, you know. your sisters are hard to buy for!”

bokuto laughs and sets his mug down on the countertop, reaching warm, big palms that smell of black tea leaves and lavender encompassing your waist, expanding across your ribcage, “you know they’ll love anything you get them,” and as if sealing the statement, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. “you know that.”

your hands seek out the heat of his skin, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to rest on the dips of his hips, solace washing over your body like the early rays of morning sunlight, “yes, i know,” you giggle as he nuzzles his nose to yours, “but you know that i have to get them the perfect thing, or else i’ll get all weird if i feel like they don’t like it.”

he’s rolling his eyes before you can finish your sentence, but it holds no malice and is nothing but endearing. his fingers reach up your shoulder blades to brush at your neck, rubbing your pulse point and your eyes slip closed, the hidden gift all but forgotten even if only for a moment.

it’s christmas eve before you see him again, thanks to holiday tournaments and fundraisers the msby jackals have participated in. as much as you hate him being away, it’s made it much easier on you to keep your little secret tucked away in the one section of the house he likely won’t find it in.

you know when he’s supposed to find his way back home, but it does nothing to calm your nerves. you took the present out to wrap it, but kiyoko called to talk about the fact that she thinks tanaka will be proposing on christmas day and that only served to kickstart your anxiety once again. what if bokuto gets you something even more spectacular than you’ve gotten him? what if he is disappointed in your gift?

“no,” you mutter aloud, gritting your teeth as you pace a pattern into your living room floor. the christmas tree lights are glowing and you can smell the hot cocoa still bubbling on the stovetop, a tradition you and bokuto started when you first began spending the holidays together. you lick your lips and face the door, giddiness overriding your nerves, and you realize you just can’t wait to see his face when he opens the present you’ve packed away.

when the door creaks open and you hear him before you see him, you spring to your feet, jetting across the room before he can get his volleyball sneakers off to slip on his house shoes. he’s laughing, dropping his bag as he encompasses you in a hug, “i missed you too, baby girl. but let me shower and change, okay? i stink.”

so you sit impatiently, bobbing up and down on the mattress like a puppy, hands on your knees and wonder in your eyes. he snickers when he sees you, but there is something faltering in his expression, something akin to worry. you brush it off, wondering if maybe they lost their charity game or if their coach made them run extra drills. usually bokuto feels less than when the team is punished, especially when it’s his responsibility.

“listen, i-

“i have something-”

“you first.”

your voices come in sync and you both burst into a fit of nervous laughter. your hands sweat in your lap and you push yourself up on your knees, “i-i got something for you, but it’s for christmas, but i just really want to see what you think of it, so can i pleasejustgiveittoyounow?”

“oh?”

your face is burning, blush simmering beneath your skin, and your fingers are antsy, reaching for him to pull him closer. he smells fresh, his body wash and shampoo some combination of delicate and masculine, something familiar. you breathe him in and he laughs again, eyes squinted shut as he tosses his head back before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, “are you talking about the thing you hid in your candy cabinet?”

the gasp that resounds in the room is chaotic and cartoonish, your hand covering your mouth as you gape up at him, “bokuto koutarou- you sleezebag!”

“wait, wait!” he tries to fend off your stingless smacking hits as you hop off of the bed and run forward to toss your careless assaults of limp wrists and pouted lips. “listen, i didn’t open it! i didn’t! i swear! i just found it when i was restocking your cabinet with those chocolates you like from the other side of town!”

your hands halt and you glare upward, “you promise?”

“pinky,” he holds out his hand as an olive branch, last and most daintiest finger extended as an offering.

as you link your hands at the knuckle, you pull your conjoined fingers up to your lips, both of you pressing a kiss to the other’s skin.

and now, when he is vulnerable, this close and held tightly in your clutches, you grin, “and i guess i wasn’t supposed to find the velvet box hidden in your underwear drawer?”

it is his turn to let his jaw drop, and you attempt to escape before he can toss you over his shoulder. you skid into the living room, running behind the couch as he stands stoic in shock, jaw unhinged and hands rested boneless by his sides, golden eyes hardly able to keep track of your erratic form as you jive around the den area.

“you little...that was a surprise!”

“you shouldn’t have hid it in the place where i do the most laundry! i always fold your underwear for you! and put them away!”

you hear his thundering footsteps and you know you’re toast, trapped between the bulge of his biceps in an instant. you’re a giggling mess as he captures you, both in body and in soul, an onslaught of kisses and blistering raspberries blown against your face and neck, lips snickering against your collarbones.

“curious little owl, aren’t you?” he murmurs against the juncture of your jaw, nose nudging along your cheek, “can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rolling your eyes, you give him a haughty laugh as soon as he releases you enough for you to breathe, “look whose talking, kou. you’re literally manhandling me right now.”

there is a small silence that stretches between you as he decides whether or not to give up or give in, and his resolve chips away when your little, “c-can i try it on?” breathes against his ear. his heart spikes and he’d take a volleyball match over the pressure and anxiety stirring his chest right now. at least a volleyball match he knows he can win.

but wait, what did you say?

bokuto processes your words and the realization wafts over him as he leans back from where his head was buried in your neck, palms rested now at the curve of your hips, “well, since you asked so nicely,” he trails, turning to glance back at the bedroom where the red velvet box is stuffed underneath a pair of msby boxers.

“no, you have to wait for santa.”

“kou!”

“if you don’t believe, you don’t receive!”

wandering lips and hands and several questions and tears later have you curled in bed, palm rested against his chest, a glittering diamond sparkling in the nightlight that transcends through the blinds.

akaashi was right.

bokuto has always been a star.

and now you have a piece of him wherever you go, a little galaxy wrapped around your knuckle in the form of a diamond band that shimmers when you lift it up to the light.

and if his name and yours are inscribed on the inside so it might leave a print of your names behind if you ever choose to take the ring off, nobody may ever know.

not that you would ever plan to remove it anyway.

fin.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!! x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu!! x y/n #rose.bokuto #rose.drabble #rose.writing

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argylemnwrites · 5 years

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Hold On

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)

Book: Open Heart (just over 5 years after the end of Book 1)

Word Count: ~1100

Rating: PG (very brief language)

Summary: Being a two physician couple with a kid is a balancing act at the best of times.

Author’s Note: My second Friday Fluff drabble. This one combines two prompts which I got literally simultaneously - 19. Forgetting Something as requested by @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl and 26. Doctor Visits, which was an anonymous request.

Cassie darted around the loft, trying to find something she could use as a burp cloth while she mixed Kendall’s formula. Dr. Bilson had told them that Kendall’s reflux should be getting better by this point, but it felt like she still was spitting up with every feed. The designated burp cloths were always dirty. Rifling through the kitchen drawers, she couldn’t even find a clean dish towel they could use. Damn, they really needed to do laundry. Just one more thing to add to their never-ending to-do list. Laundry, renewing her DEA number, grocery shopping, and finally getting around to starting to introduce solids for Kendall, something Dr. Bilson had advised them to do before today’s appointment. Oh well.

Having a six month old, working as one of only two attendings on the diagnostics service, and having your husband be in the midst of fellowship interviews, it turns out, was a recipe for chaos. Cassie was the attending on service this week, so Bryce was supposed to take Kendall to her six month well child appointment, as he was currently working nights. That had been the plan - Bryce would take her to the 8:30 appointment, drop her off at daycare by 9:30, then come home and crash while Cassie rounded and saw the new consults. That was before Bryce got a last minute fellowship interview offer at Stanford. Clearly, another applicant had cancelled, but with how competitive surgical oncology was, he would be a fool to turn down any interview, even one that was wildly inconvenient for them. They just had to make it work.

Thankfully Puja, the resident currently on a diagnostics elective, was very accommodating. She was a med-peds resident, so she was very sympathetic to Cassie’s need to juggle her daughter’s needs with her professional obligations. Puja had readily agreed to carry the consult pager in the morning and to round in the afternoon. And Bryce had been able to cash in some favors from all the Christmas shifts he’d volunteered to cover over the years, so he had been able to trade away his shifts last night and tonight. However, the rapid change in plans had left them scattered and scrambling. It didn’t help that Bryce overslept this morning, no doubt a side effect of his disjointed sleep schedule this block. He currently was trying to spend a little time with Kendall while he worked on packing, but Cassie could hear her fussing in the bedroom, probably hungry for her bottle. It was just a morning of stress for everyone.

“Babe, have you seen my blue tie?” Bryce asked, stepping out of their bedroom, Kendall held in one of his arms, his garment bag in the other.

Cassie sighed heavily, walking over, handing Bryce the bottle and hanging his garment bag off a cabinet handle before she went into their bedroom and started digging through the dresser. “I have no idea where it is. Can’t you just wear the red one?”

“If I have to, I will. Some of the older docs act like it’s some wild color, but it’s probably not a huge deal.” Bryce called out.

“I think we’re at that point,” said Cassie as she came out of the bedroom, walking over to the couch where he was feeding Kendall. “Let me finish, you need to get showered and dressed now so you don’t miss your flight.”

Bryce shook his head, “I’m just going in my sweatpants. I’m going to want to shower anyway once I get to the hotel.”

“Shouldn’t you still be packing?”

Bryce grimaced slightly, “Any chance you could finish up for me? It’s just... I’m not going to see her for a couple of days and-”

Cassie held up her hand to cut him off. She wanted to make him do his own packing, but it was hard to deny him spending time with his kid, particularly when she would have to handle 100% of the parenting for the next two days. So she nodded gently and returned to the bedroom, making sure his suitcase was ready to go.

When she came back out 15 minutes later, she was pleasantly surprised to see Bryce already snapping Kendall into her carrier. “I refilled her diaper bag, too,” he told her, looking back over his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I know you’re on service, so if you need me to take her to the pediatrician, I can probably catch a red eye tonight and just-”

“We’ll be fine,” Cassie interrupted, “Go wow those Stanford surgeons.”

Bryce grinned at her, taking the suitcase from her hand, “They won’t know what hit ‘em. You grabbed my phone charger?”

“Yup. And you made her six ounce bottles, not five?”

“Yes. My padfolio’s in here?”

“Of course. You threw in a new pack of wipes?”

“I did. Did you get my dress socks?”

“Absolutely. And you checked that there’s enough triple paste?”

“Uh huh. Are we all set?”

“Maybe?” said Cassie with a laugh. It certainly seemed like they were as ready as they were going to be.

Cassie grabbed her work bag and the diaper bag and headed towards the door, but Bryce stopped her in her tracks.

“Uh Cassie, aren't you forgetting something?”

“What are you-” Cassie started to ask as she spun around, but stopped when she saw Bryce, holding out Kendall in her carrier. “Oops.”

“It is generally advised to bring the patient to the appointment, Dr. Vanderfield.”

Cassie just shook her head, grabbing the carrier handle and walking towards the door again, but as she was unlocking it, she realized Bryce was forgetting something too.

“Babe, don’t forget your suit!” she called out. She heard some mumbling that sounded suspiciously like “Shit,” and then the sound of a zipper, Bryce clearly attaching his garment bag to his suitcase.

Thinking they might both be in the clear, she opened the door, but Bryce called out one more time.

“Wait! One more thing!”

“What is it now, Bryce?” she asked as he jogged over to her.

“I love you,” he said before he kissed her deeply.

“I love you, too. Now, I need to go, and so do you.”

Bryce nodded, but took one more second to drop a kiss to Kendall’s forehead. Their life was a giant ball of crazy at the moment, but Cassie knew that both of them wouldn’t have it any other way.

Permatag: @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

Open Heart: @omgjasminesimone @octobereighth

Bryce x MC only: @thequeenchoices @feartheendlesssummer @tallulahshh @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @dreaming-of-movies @choicesarehard @universallypizzataco @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl @maria-soederberg @sunnyxdazed

#bryce lahela #bryce x mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart #choices fanfiction #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #fluffy friday

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arielmary · 4 years

Text

Sims 4 Eco Lifestyle Thoughts

Okay so, I’m an avid Sims player (have been for like, 10 years) and I’m a bit disappointed about Eco Lifestyle, so I wanted to explain why and also why I’m generally a bit annoyed with The Sims 4 as a whole. This is also a comment (which I edited slightly for this post) that I posted on Amanda Elimian’s (amandabb) YouTube video about this pack. Before I even start, I want to mention that I was not expecting a farming pack, and I didn’t even know about the fake leak until this trailer came out, so I’m not one of those people berating the sims team just because they wanted farming. So, first of all, I guarantee this expansion won't be worth the $40 that people will pay for it. They should've had Eco Lifestyle, Tiny Living, and maybe Laundry Day combined and they NEVER should've added the conservation concept to Island Living because now it's not a fresh new idea. It would be much more exciting if this concept had never been done before, but instead they're giving us basically a recycled idea. To give it the benefit of the doubt, I think this could be a cool pack if you're into this kind of thing (although I'm not sure this really aligns with most of The Sims' audience) but my main issue is that they've broken down an idea that could be one pack into three in order to make more money. If you look back at the old games and expansions, you got so much more (especially in terms of gameplay) for your money. My parents bought me The Sims 3 Supernatural for my birthday once, it was probably $20-$30. It came with vampires, wizards, fairies, and werewolves. For the Sims 4, we now have a vampire game pack and a wizard game pack, each for $20. If you buy them both you're paying $10-$20 more than you would've paid for Supernatural for HALF THE GAMEPLAY CONTENT. You can also obviously tell how much they're breaking up packs for money simply from the number of expansions each game has. The Sims 2 had 18. The Sims 3 has 20. The Sims 4 has 33. And yes, TS4 has had a longer run time without a sequel to replace it, so maybe that's why there's more? Well, I don't find this to be an excuse for the amount of expansions they've come out with because TS2 and 3 were both out for 5 years before having sequels. The Sims 4 has been out for 6 now. Only a year longer, and it has 13 more expansions than TS3. That doesn't make any sense. All of these packs are such obvious cash grabs, and I might be okay with that if they actually gave the community what we wanted, but they're coming out with these expansions that most of the community hasn’t expressed much of an interest in (yes I know there was a survey where people said they liked the eco living idea, but that was also three years ago) for way more than they're worth. Not to mention the base game is kind of boring (especially gameplay for sims) and they should probably be putting more time into reworking that instead of making packs people haven’t expressed interest in in 3 years.

#the sims 4 #TS4 #eco lifestyle #ts4 eco lifestyle #the sims 4 eco lifestyle #eco lifestyle thoughts

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omgokiguess · 4 years

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wow guys i just got out of rehab today

first of all. it was so terrible except for some of the people there. but also a couple of the people there really sucked too.

the staff was TERRIBLE. they were literally so mean and power hungry. i was friends with basically every patient (except for the few shitty ones) and was really nice to them.... like i took in this innocent 20yo girl who started calling me her big sister and i helped this 21yo girl so much with her anxiety..... like i took care of everyone that i could and i stuck up for everyone that the staff treated like shit. and the staff was so fucking rude to me. the whole staff said so many times “we have no problem giving you extra phone time/computer time to take care of things like work, aftercare, legal problems, financial problems, etc” but literally every single time i asked to call work or call my lawyer or anything i got a no. it literally took me two full weeks to get things straightened out with exelon and i literally got let go from anthro because they would just not let me get on the phone so that’s cool. i never once was able to speak to my lawyer or my pre-trial officer. neat. also i got in a pretty heated fight with this one bitch employee who told me i was disrespectful because i asked her superior to open the laundry room for me because i had my period and needed new underwear out of the dryer. we were like screaming at each other and she ended up being sent home for four days. two guys actually ended up leaving randomly and left all their shit including their phones and wallets. that’s how bad the staff was.

the doctor was really good and knowledgeable and helpful and i really liked him. he was really chill. but i do have to say he really was pushing meds on not just me but everyone. i didn’t get on any meds though, and honestly one of the nurses congratulated me for not getting on meds when i left. i thought it was fucked up that i was the only person not on meds. we’re just alcoholics.... there’s no way we’re all fucking psychotic or something. nobody was on less than 2 meds besides me and i would say the average number of different meds was about 4 for somebody my age.

the staff just really frustrated me. it’s rehab so obviously there are a lot of rules for the sake of having rules and i honestly did not have a problem with the rules even though a lot of them were very silly. like you would not find me complaining about the unhealthy food, the fact that they said the gym would be open certain hours but was actually never open because they were “understaffed,” that our bathrooms were locked from 7:30am - 9:30pm and 25 people had to share two toilets, that there were essentially no covid-19 precautions, that somebody checked where i was every 15 minutes, that smoking a pack of cigarettes a day is okay but the juul is not, that i had to get the actual doctor to approve me using contact solution or allergy medication, or any other stupid thing they enforced. i literally only complained about the fact that i couldn’t talk to my employer(s), couldn’t talk to my lawyer, couldn’t talk to my pre-trial officer, couldn’t figure out my aftercare, couldn’t call my therapist, and that the staff spoke to me like i was either an idiot, a delinquent, or like i was a bitch.

i did put up one little stink though. this bitch that worked there, if we were in our rooms, when she checked on us she didn’t knock she just fucking opened up the door, so i decided to just chill in my room and read in the nude one day cause i knew she would just open the door without knocking... and wouldn’t it be fun for her to have to deal with the sight of my entire bush..... so i went for it lmao. she told the entire staff that she walked in on me LOL and the “director of operations” (this woman is truly a dumb cunt) asked my roommate, who was a 45 year old MD from lake forest, if she wanted to switch roommates (???) and dr. nancy my hero was like “um no i actually lucked out with erin and also diana should learn to knock.”

anyway, nancy and brittany my two fave people, left on the same day which really sucked but whatever. then sam left which also whatever... i loved her too. and then..... oh god i hate to admit this so much.... but then michael came in. he made it in 3-ish days before i left.

i literally have NO IDEA why this would be, but okay the protocol is before you go to rehab you go through alcohol detox in the hospital, so i was an inpatient in the hospital for 5 days. i slept through most of that because they put me on valium for those 5 days so that I wouldn’t experience the hells of alcohol withdrawal. i’m glad i was asleep for most of it though because there was nothing at all to do, they had like 3 different crossword puzzles and no TV but as it turns out..... i wasn’t in the alcohol detox section of the hospital.... for some reason they put me in the psychotic wing..... there were only 6 patients total in that wing and i was the only person living in reality. one woman escaped the hospital because she thought her husband was telling her to leave, and the other 4 men were handcuffed to their beds. i was the only person in there with any sense of reality, and i had gotten there in the middle of the night so i was unaware of other wings in the hospital. on my last night there, they moved me to “2 north” aka the normal alcohol detox wing, which probably had 100 people in it. so in the morning we all had breakfast together and i was like WHAT THE HELL..... I COULD HAVE MADE FRIENDS HERE.... and that’s when i met michael. i knew him for like a full 90 minutes total in inpatient but we were literally instant best friends. we met because some old men were telling me jokes trying to get me to laugh and he was sitting nearby and he was like “so how old are you like 35?” and i was like “you’ve got to be kidding me fuck you....” and he was like “yeah lol i’m kidding” and i was like playing back, like “so how old are you like 45?” cause he looked about 30 and he was like “yes” and i was like okay bullshit so he showed me his hospital band and it said 45..... and i was like okay this is ridiculous. anyway he had been to the rehab i was going to before so he told me about it and he gave me a note for sam and i just thought he was really cool. he was getting ECT treatments which is “a treatment most commonly used in patients with severe major depression or bipolar disorder that have not responded to other treatments. ECT involves a brief electrical stimulation of the brain while the patient is under anesthesia.” aka it’s literally where they put those diodes on your brain and shock you. he got 16 treatments. i thought he might end up back in rehab with me. but he spent like 2 full months in inpatient which is super abnormal, almost everyone is there for exactly 5 days like me. anyways

so michael shows up right before i leave and the big question is WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME...... i spent like 3 days with him nonstop and we can probably all see where this is going but.... this dumbass of course falls for him....???? there were some cuties in rehab and i had NO INTEREST in any of them but idk michael is just kind of.... the personality i’ve been looking for.

couple problems. 1. i have a boyfriend. 2. michael is 5′6″ .... (???) .... 3. i cannot get his fucking stupid smile out of my head and i’m hoping i was just sexually deprived for weeks and this is just a dumb thing BUT

idk my boyfriend like made all these promises of things he was going to do for me while i was in rehab and he kind of didn’t follow through on any of them. i really basically only told him and my sister that i’m going to rehab and my sister lives in boston and so i kind of assumed he would do the things he promised he would do, which clearly was stupid on my part. i can’t rely on him. i should have learned that by now... if i want something done i have to do it myself. i didn’t even ask very much of him. he basically promised four things. 1. he would take care of my guinea pigs. 2. he would check on my car to be sure it doesn’t get impounded 3. he would clean my room before i get back and 4. he would bring me the stuff i need (contact lenses to fucking see, hairbrush, tampons, other necessities) since they wouldn’t let me leave hospital care between detox and rehab. the only one of those he did was take care of my guinea pigs, which is essentially nothing because he goes to whole foods every day and his MAID cleaned their cage.

and idk, we were allowed 10 minutes of combined computer and phone time a day (which is literally nothing), and i always called him and ignored the computer because i thought he would want to hear from me and i would want to hear from him too, but at least 30% of the time i left phone time upset and crying. i mean i was turning my whole entire life around and it took him 13 days just to check to see that my car wasn’t impounded, and he had the audacity to complain that he was overwhelmed with all the stuff he had to deal with on my behalf even though it was literally just feeding my guinea pigs and then he had his own work shit. i suspect he’s taking more adderall than he should again. but i can’t even complain. his dad found the lawyer that may end up saving my life.

and anyway. he never ended up cleaning my room (he wasn’t even gonna clean it himself, he was going to hire someone to clean it and he couldn’t even do that even though he promised. i don’t need it i just kind of thought he was gonna keep his promise), and it took him 5 days to bring me the stuff i need. i kept in one pair of dailies for 5 days (i wore my last pair over from detox) and went blind for 2 days. my rehab was only 20 minutes from his house, a straight shot on the never-crowded 294. i left him with all of my debit cards and pins too, and bank logins so that he wouldn’t have to pay for anything i needed.

and idk then when i talked to him, whenever i complained about rehab he would just kind of be like “this is why you should have gone to PSI” which is where he went to rehab for marijuana.... which costs and arm and a leg because his dad will pay for anything for him and he doesn’t understand that i’m paying for this myself. and i didn’t want some cushy rehab. i mean yeah i didn’t want the staff to be such a load of cunts but i didn’t want his cushy frilly rehab experience. i would have really liked my program if there had just been better people working there. and he wanted to talk about my sobriety so much and like.... i don’t want to talk about it with him. idk in his head i think he thinks i’m taking his exact same journey and like i’m NOT. like it’s not even the same drug. he acts like he totally understands and it’s like... yes there is a lot he understands but there’s a lot that’s different and there’s no way ANY two patients ever went through the exact same thing, ESPECIALLY when it’s different drugs!!!!

and i’ve been with him since about 1p today (he was late to pick me up, it was supposed to be noon, which he promised he wouldn’t be late, and him being late was also something i brought up a lot in rehab because it caused me so much stress..... i just KNEW he was gonna be late and it caused me a lot of anxiety and i told him this so much and he was still late) (and anyway the point here is).... i’ve been with him since 1 and he just keeps saying weird stuff about alcohol. which is EXACTLY why i didn’t want anybody to know i was going to rehab. like after eating hospital food for weeks i wanted to go to a nice restaurant and most nice restaurants serve alcohol.... which is FINE like i was not gonna drink.... but he kept saying things like “we probably shouldn’t go to a pub” or “lake forest food and wine hmm better not go there” and it’s like..... i’m fucking HUNGRY i purposely didn’t eat the hospital food because i wanted to eat good food and it took us till 2:30pm to get somewhere because he felt the need to beat around the alcohol bush.... and every time alcohol came up in conversation (which just HAPPENS because that is how life is....) he’d be like oh sorry shouldn’t mention that and it’s like I CAN HANDLE IT..... i literally finally said to him “wow I’m so glad I didn’t tell anyone i went to rehab because if everybody talked to me the way you’re talking to me that would make me want to drink”

and also right before i went to rehab i told him i was afraid i wasn’t going to like him anymore if i was sober. and boy was i right. and adding michael in did not fucking help. i told myself i would never like somebody fucking shorter than me but i can’t fucking help it. i’ve never liked people for their looks anyway and his personality is just fucking perfect. i can’t get his voice and his smile out of my head. and i trust him to be sober. i really do. this was his first relapse in five years, and he only spent one month drinking before getting help. and i think we could be sober together.

idk maybe i was just so sex deprived that i was just horny or something. i don’t know.

i start online intensive outpatient tomorrow at noon. this week i have it wednesday thursday and friday but it’s gonna be different every week and somebody is going to at least speak with me every day. i’m doing it through derek’s practice and i told him to make sure i have a lot of homework.

i’m not sure how or when i’m going to get back to work. i don’t even really care though. i can always get another job. and after talking to my sister and working through some therapy at rehab, i almost think it’s best to move anyway. i think it would really help me to get away from my parents.

idk. my life is just so in limbo right now. i can stay on FMLA leave for 3 months and on my upcoming court date, that will mark one month. i think it might be wise to use the whole three months. it also might not be wise though because i need things to do. maybe if i could just get back to anthro.....

anthro terminated me in the weirdest way and i think my lawyer can get my job at anthro back for me with a simple letter. that might be the best thing for me right now.

not to mention.... i haven’t been back to my apartment yet but.... the gold coast has been destroyed. i don’t know what i’m going back to at this point. this is really sad sad sad to say but i don’t think i will be living downtown chicago anymore, once i find some other solution or once this lease expires, i’m leaving. maybe i’ll stay in chicagoland but probably not. if i do stay in chicagoland i’m gonna be living in the suburbs. but i think it only makes sense to get out of here. i think it makes sense to go to the southeast. florida or atlanta or north carolina or virginia. california is always on the mind too but to move there i think i need to be really really confident in my sobriety.

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victorluvsalice · 5 years

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What I’d Want Out Of Sims 5

So, thanks to renovation madness kicking in, I only had one mini-update for you guys regarding what’s actually happening in my Sims game. To fill the gap, I figured I’d give you all a quick list of what I’d like to see out of a semi-idealized Sims 5 (I say “semi-” because these ideas are made with the assumption that this is a game company looking for profit and thus paid expansions will always be a thing). I’m doing my best to keep this simple, as I could go on for probably literal HOURS on the subject of what I’d like to see done, but this should sum up what I think would be best:

1. CAS -- I think most of us would agree that Sims 4 CAS is actually pretty good, and that being able to make changes directly on the Sim is a great development. Where it falls a little short is in the personality section. To whit, I propose the following:

-->Bring back favorites from The Sims 3 (like favorite food, color, etc)

-->Bring back turn-ons and turn-offs from The Sims 2 (like a Sim likes blondes and glasses, but dislikes tattoos)

-->Rejigger how many traits each age group gets (I was thinking that toddlers should keep their one toddler-specific trait; children get two traits but one HAS to be picked from a short list of traits that fit with the toddler trait they got; teenagers get three, possibly four traits, plus the bonus trait from their aspiration category; young adults and up get five traits plus the bonus trait. I’ve also seen people suggest implementing “fatal flaws” like the ones from The Sims Medieval, or possibly going back to the point-build system of the first two games. Maybe you could even combine traits with the point build?)

-->Bring back hair physics because come on (I like the more cartoony style but come on)

-->Keep the CAS Story randomizer but unlock the bonuses so players can put them on Sims manually at will (like I would like to)

2. Aspirations -- I actually like that Sims can switch between lots of different aspirations between categories, but I do agree that it can make Sims feel less special, and I do kind of miss the aspiration system as it was in Sims 2. Therefore I propose the following compromise: You still have multiple aspirations grouped under larger categories, but your Sim can only choose two categories to focus on (like, they can be a Knowledge Sim with a lesser focus on Family, or a Romance Sim with a lesser focus on Popularity). They can do all the aspirations in those categories, but if they want access to more categories, they have to earn unlocking them through some sort of challenge. (Or have their players cheat them in.)

Also, bring back wants and fears, lifetime wants, the aspiration meters, aspirational breakdowns, and the silly items you could unlock with aspiration points (the potions are fine, but I kinda want my zappy needs-filling machine back). Sims 2 really had it going on!

3. Worlds -- Okay, I LOVE that all worlds are available in a single save file now, and that my Sims can visit all of them. If we can keep that and just reduce/speed up the loading screens. . . I personally can live without a proper “open world” a la Sims 3, but being able to visit my next-door neighbor without a loading screen would be nice.

4. Expansions -- The Seasons, University, and Pets expansions should always be the FIRST expansions worked on, as they’re some of the most popular and really change how the game is played (particularly Seasons!) For some specific thoughts on each:

-->Seasons should have the calendar and holidays from the Sims 4 version, the seasonal festivals from the Sims 3 version, and the relationship/skill boosts from the Sims 2 version. Also snow should have depth.

-->Pets should include cats, dogs, horses, and a variety of small pets (birds, lizards, rodents, rabbits) -- and if you MUST give the small pets their own separate thing, DON’T TIE MOST OF THE CONTENT TO THE MAIN PETS PACK. Nobody wants My First Pet Stuff again.

-->University should probably follow the Sims 4 model, but maybe add in the occasional active class, and make the University world a bit bigger -- or maybe add in more worlds with a university? Hmmm. . .

Related to that point, I would also suggest that vacations in SimWorld be revamped so you can just vacation in specific spots in other residential worlds, as well as having specific outside places to go (as I like Sulani, but I’d like it more if it was a vacation destination).

5. Activities -- Starting from the top:

-->Just put in cars from the start, or fit them into an early expansion, as people want them no matter what

-->All Sims of all ages should have a variety of hobbies in the mode of The Sims 2 Freetime, with magazines, private clubs, and whatnot

-->Children in particular should have child-friendly objects like the muffin oven and the lemonade stand from Sims 2 to give them more to do

-->Bring private school and the admission challenge with the headmaster back from Sims 2

-->Give all careers “active” days where you can join the Sim for a special event (like a musician Sim doing a big concert) -- I actually think this makes more sense than having plain old “active” careers, as I’ve discovered that going with your Sim to work all the time can get -- repetitive. You could also do this with school days for littler Sims.

-->Also, personal pet peeve, but Musician should have its own career path where you can choose to be a rock star or a classical musician -- Entertainer then can focus on Stand-up Comedy or something else.

-->Related, Woodworking should be its own skill and not lumped under Handiness.

-->We have responded surprisingly well to laundry, so maybe include more chores linked to specific items? My specific ideas are for a vacuum cleaner that makes floors dirty, and a lawnmower that makes grass sprout and weeds appears in the lawn.

7. Occults -- Okay, this one is probably gonna be at least a little controversial, but I’ll put it out there:

I firmly believe every occult life state should have its own game pack where it can be explored to the fullest.

Reason? Sims 4 Vampires. It is my absolute favorite take on vampires in the whole series and I feel like all occults should follow its model. Imagine if we’d gotten a mermaid game pack where they had an underwater world! Or an alien pack with even more to Sixam! Realm of Magic comes close, but I feel like the Magical Realm should really be bigger. . .also Spellcasters should have permanent weaknesses, not just curses one can dispel with the right potion or spell; potions should need more ingredients and be harder; and familiars should be treated as a special category of small pet. (Let me interact with the cute dragon, damn it!)

Also, children should be allowed to participate in occult life states, even if their powers are a little different -- I mean, come on, Sims 1 had a whole set of kid spells for your junior spellcaster! How is it that’s the only game where that’s happened?!

Aaaand okay, I am indeed starting to ramble. Yes, this is what happens when I try to keep it SHORT on this subject. *facepalm* I promise to go back to picture updates next week!

#sims 4 #the sims #sims 5 #sims ideas #I just have a lot of feelings on this franchise #and how it could do better #I guess the tl;dr version is:#'basically put Sims 2 in Sims 4 graphics with the best bits of Sims 3 and Sims 4 there'#I think we can all agree that would be good right?#I like Sims 4 but yes #we need a better game #and we should have to rely on mods to do give it to us #queued

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gaiatheorist · 4 years

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Atypical/Elliptical.

There was a tweet highlighted yesterday by one of the Neuro-Divergent accounts I follow, building pace on the back of a compare/contrast photo of an autistic female, and an autistic male. If you haven’t seen it, you can guess how it went, she’s all cute and ‘sailor suit’, he’s in a cluttered room, overweight, in food-stained clothing. Lazy stereotyping at best, offensive and dangerous in reality. The dangerous tweet I reported was one from a contentious incel, stating that females don’t have autism, further down the page of “Would you like to report any other tweets?”, we have that other old favourite “Autism isn’t real.” Yes, I’m shaking my head.

I’m not going to go into in-depth analysis of incel beliefs and values, I’ll just hover over the suggestion that this particular variant was whipping up his followers that ‘Women don’t have autism’, based on his interpretation that the female whose picture he was using was conventionally attractive, and neatly presented. If you tell someone the sun’s 93 million miles away, they accept it, but if they see a sign saying ‘wet paint’, they feel compelled to put their finger in it to check, then complain that they have paint on them. (I know, I don’t touch wet paint, I lick it, it keeps life interesting.) ‘Everybody knows’ that a common feature with autism is the special interest, that we will fixate obsessively on a certain topic, or subject, and woe betide any mere mortal who can’t escape before we get into full flow, what with us not always picking up on non-verbal cues, like snoring. It’s entirely possible that the ‘girl’ had a special interest of dressing and presenting herself in a certain way, even ‘normal’ people do that, hanging their entire identity on presenting a certain way, designer clothes, certain styles of dress, Angry Bird eyebrows. Step back, and absorb that, the girl wasn’t ‘properly’ autistic because she didn’t have food in her hair, wasn’t wearing a Star Trek uniform, looked ‘normal’. Specifically, she looked the kind of ‘normal’ that incels have experience of being rejected by, because they expect to have nice-things handed to them on a plate, and then blame everyone else when they’re denied. There’s a certain example of a petulant, pouty individual, who sulks when they don’t get their own way floating to mind.

Using the newfangled terms neuro-divergent, and neuro-typical, and pausing just for a second to point out that no, we’re not ‘all a bit autistic’ any more than we’re a ‘bit vegetarian’ or a ‘bit left-handed’, neuro-typical people are assumed to be the norm, anything else is deviant. I’ll hold my hands up to that, I don’t iron my laundry, or peel my vegetables, you can stop clutching your pearls, I’m not going to steal them, what would I want pearls for? People with neurodevelopmental disorders are atypical, outsiders, outliers, ‘other’, and it’s more than a little annoying that ‘everyone knows’ that, specifically autistic people, have a tendency to see themselves as different from others. (You started it, telling us we were wrong and weird for our plethora of sensory aversions, and routines, just because they don’t make sense to you.) We’re atypical, whether that’s because we’re genuinely distressed if our ‘usual’ brand of socks, or cereal, or soap is discontinued, or because we won’t cross the road if the light isn’t green, even if there’s nothing coming. Other examples are available.

I’ve spent vast chunks of my life being bounced between “Why are you doing it like that?” and “HOW do you do that?”, I don’t have any savant-skills, but I’m on an elliptical axis, I do some things differently. (The axis isn’t just elliptical, it’s occasionally highly irregular, I have multiple other medical issues, autistics are often blessed like that, to the untrained eye, it might appear I’m neurotic, or hypochondriac, or do my shopping on NHS direct. I’m an unfortunate combination of chromosomes and chronology.) You neuro-typical types bimble along happily enough on your spherical orbits. Yes, you have spikes, too, I know, but it seems that they’re the exception rather than the rule, your orbits appear far more regular than mine. I’m deviating from all-autistics, to ‘me’, there are common factors, but we’re not a one-size-fits-all contingent, I don’t get upset if different types of food touch on my plate, but I can’t use oven-gloves, and I’ll go all day without a drink of water rather than share a drinking vessel, we’re all different.

I’m sometimes envious of the spherical orbit, the regularity of being able to remember to prepare and eat three meals a day, not being afraid of bridges, being able to choose a direction and travel in it without sensory overload, it might as well be necromancy or Olympic level athleticism, it just isn’t ‘there’ for me. When my orbit is within ‘yours’, I’m highly efficient, that’s the “HOW do you do that?” phase. I just do. There isn’t really much of an alternative, but it’s not very healthy, I have all of your weird scripts and rules tumbling around my head, like that stage where you’re learning a new language, everything has to be double-processed, and checked, it’s clunky, not fluent. I’m 43, and I still don’t dream in your language, I can concentrate for periods, but remembering all of the verb endings tends to kick the tenses out of the window, we’re no longer congruent, and I don’t make sense to you.

When I’m within your orbit, I take short-cuts, as verbose as I am here, I omit the unnecessary, because I don’t have the cognitive or physical energy for all of it. I’m a flat-pack item of furniture, I don’t need ‘all’ those screws and fixings to be functional, do I? I unintentionally infuriate and antagonise, because I don’t want to stop for a cup of tea, or chat about TV programmes, I want to complete the task set, before I run out of energy. (I know, but the externally imposed sanctions for non-completion generally have a ripple-out impact on others. My intense bursts of activity alienate other people, because they want to slow down, and chat, but that’s not the task in hand, and I know that my brain and body are temperamental, I *need* to finish within time, and properly, in case I’m less-functional the next day, I always stacked/banked work to make sure I was ahead of myself, to avoid letting other people down if I was ill.)

When our orbits converge, it’s phenomenal, on a ‘work’ level, a life-admin level, or, that holiest of Grail, an interpersonal level, those brief instances are stellar, apart from me freaking people out by my intensity sometimes, I’m an acquired taste. I’m really good at some things, a large proportion of which have yet to demonstrate a particularly useful potential, but there’s time yet. I’m steering very firmly away from the lazy stereotypes of ‘special talents’, I’m resilient and resourceful because I have to be, I often view things from an alternative perspective, and connect-the-dots that others don’t. I still can’t use oven-gloves.

When my orbit swings outside yours, it’s difficult, sometimes impossible for aims to be reconciled, That’s the kick in the teeth on a regular basis, last week, or last month, or yesterday, or earlier today, I might have been functional, or even brilliant, then, all at once, I’m not. “You were fine yesterday!”, yes, I know, I was there.

Chromosomal and chronological factors sometimes spin me out of orbit. I might have been able to walk to Tesco one day last week (Coincidentally, I wasn’t, but that’s not the point.), that doesn’t mean I can do it every day, it’s a cross-over complexity with my telephone directory of other ailments, as well as the autism. When I’m out of orbit, whether it’s sensory overload, burnout, or just my day-to-day ‘wrongness’, I process differently. A ‘normal’ action, like parking a car (I don’t know why I use driving analogies, I’ve never taken my test.) becomes a pantomime of a driving test, where the instructor speaks a foreign language, it’s an unfamiliar car, on unfamiliar roads, and the car’s on fire, and full of wasps, with an angry pig in the back seat. I don’t have muscle memory, or subconscious competence for a lot of functions people take for granted, not just oven gloves, sometimes events conspire to throw me out of spherical orbit, and everything becomes far more complicated than it needs to be. The elliptical orbit makes ‘just’ my ultimate four-letter word, and I know plenty of others. Some instances of being out-of-orbit are predictable, sensory overloads, other illnesses, compounded difficulties around other life-events, my toe having poked through my sock, and being strangled in my boot, it can feel like being an adult-sized toddler, and the temptation to throw down and scream on the supermarket floor because I’m tired is an unwelcome, but regular occurrence.

“Oh, we all get like that sometimes! Can’t you just...?” If I could have ‘just’, I would already have ‘just’, wouldn’t I? 43 years of having been chastised for being difficult, or ruining everyone else’s picnic feed very firmly into the ‘masking’ phenomenon. Charlatans and snake-oil sellers, and Gwyneth Paltrow, as well as even more insidious practitioners are always trying to promote some thing or another that will make us fitter, healthier, more productive, then, to continue the Radiohead theme, many medical types throw back “You do it to yourself.”.

Autism is a lifelong developmental disorder. I can’t consistently ‘try to be less like that’ any more than I can try to be less right-handed, or biologically female. (Yes, I *could* attempt to alter both of those, but to what end?) I’ve had a lot of medical interventions since the brain aneurysm ruptured, and 99% of them have tried to un-autistic me. That’s normal, because autism is abnormal. It’s also normal because autistic females broadly present differently to males. Broadly, I have observational experience from working in education, the ‘old’ perspective was that boys were more frequently autistic than girls, and, more-autistic. Slight tangent on the common misconception of the autistic spectrum, if I may? “We’re all a bit autistic, haha!”, no, no, we’re not, any more than we’re all a bit epileptic. The autistic spectrum isn’t a continuum-spectrum, from 0-100% autistic, while it is clear that some people are severely autistic, and others are not, it isn’t actually a point-scoring exercise, unless you’re UK benefits agencies.

Males and females are conditioned and socialised differently, after millennia of girls-do-this-boys-do-that, humanity is cautiously asking why. I’ll leave my wonky femininist soapbox under the desk, apart from the fact that females are ‘supposed to’ be quiet, and kind, and compliant, and all the gubbins that the incels say. I’m 43, I was raised pink-for-girls-blue-for-boys, there were a lot of things Girls Didn’t Do, it’s OK, I’ve done most of them now, don’t tell my Dad. Much like left-handed children in days gone by were forced to write with their right hand, there has been, and still is, to some extent, pressure on males and females to behave differently, as if keeping our reproductive paraphernalia in a more-or-difficult-to-kick location is an absolute-for-everything. I don’t think it is, but we’ve already established I’m atypical. Not all 40-something-year-old people, with, or without autism had the same childhood experiences I did. There’s no place for detail here, some of the embedded lessons weren’t kindly taught. That Pavlovian response system stuck, be quiet, be pleasant, be demure and train that flinch into a smile. (Various parties ought to apply for funding for having ‘tamed’ this particular shrew. I’m not tamed, I’m barely even domesticated, but I have a shed-load of coping mechanisms.)

Females shouldn’t feel the need to be less-than, to defer to males, but, in a disturbing number of arenas, that’s the norm. I spent the largest part of my life being afraid of men, because of what some men had done, and hating myself for holding a belief that was anathema to the absolute core of my being. (Chapter whatever, fundamentally knowing that males were not ‘better’ than females, but feeling obliged to concede, to avoid disturbing the peace.) The #MeToo disclosures and discourse picked that metaphorical scab, I’ll never go back to that half-life.

I’m atypical because, after decades of excruciating path-of-least-resistance masking, I’ve managed to mask proficiently to a point where I can ‘act normal’ for short stretches. I shouldn’t have to. I’m not suggesting I should be allowed to climb on top of the curtain poles, and throw things, but I don’t see why not-acting-feminine should be seen as disturbing or threatening. It hurts, not just the bras, and the stupid shoes, and the sitting-all-cramped-up, but the emotional and physical toll of carrying oneself ‘female’. When I had the full spectrum cognitive functioning assessment after the brain injuries had settled, the neuro-psych pointed out that a consideration was always ‘At what cost?’. The popular analogy for physical or cognitive energy is a ‘battery’ (A cell, doofus, a ‘battery’ is a number of cells together- behold, I’m reaching my cranky-pedantic cut-off stage.) In order to do anything at all, you need enough ‘charge’ to complete the task. Yes, given, BUT, with autistic masking, there isn’t just the ‘charge’ for the task, there’s the additional charge involved in keeping everything else running, without breaking down, or burning out, the energy overdraft. I’m virtually constantly in my ‘overdraft’, and it’s a bitch to pay back.

I’m elliptical because I frequently swing inside, or outside a typical orbit, I can be ‘miles ahead’ at some points, but ‘miles behind’, and struggling to keep up at others, it’s not a reliable pattern, I can’t predict all of it, and I am SICK of well-meaning “Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself!”. I’m rarely being ‘hard’, I’m usually being practical, if I do x and y on one day, I won’t be able to do z as well. (”Don’t call yourself disabled!” can be a blog for another day.)

This has been an attempt for me to shake myself out of a fog of not-writing. Autism is opaque and oblique, it can be brilliant at times, when things ‘click’, but it’s almost-always difficult to articulate in a way that’s palatable, let alone digestible, I know, it sticks in my own throat enough. The ‘experts’ trot out their theories, sometimes without consultation, and the organisations that set out to ‘cure’ us are pedaling the myth that autism is a disease. It’s not, it’s a divergence. Take this as ‘A Portrait of This Autist’, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I do think it’s important to speak.

#Autism

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deaky-disco-queen · 5 years

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All You Have To Do Is Fall In Love - Joger Week Day 4

A/N: Prompt: Jewelry; This was so much fun to write, to be honest so enjoy!

Can also be read on AO3.

+++

Roger was a fashionable in a way John could never be. Even when there was no order in their closet, it was easy to know which clothes belonged to Roger and which belonged to John. He just wasn’t interested in fashion the same way his boyfriend was.

It didn’t bother John that most of their closet belonged to Roger and it didn’t bother him that he had to clear out a space for a dresser so he could store his extensive jewelry collection. He wouldn’t have built him a vanity if it had been the case. It also didn’t bother him that Roger needed a couple of extra minutes to get ready sometimes or that John was the one who ended up doing most of their laundry because Roger wasn’t to be trusted with a washing machine.

What did bother him, though, was how picky Roger was. Not because he ends up complaining to John about how stupid some trends were and how ugly some stuff- especially rings, earrings and jackets- was for much longer than John thought somebody could talk about this topic but for the fact that John was panicking about buying an engagement ring.

They had been together for a couple of years now and John really wanted to propose but he needed the perfect ring for it.

He just couldn’t find it.

John knew what kind of rings Roger liked- he listened when Roger went on about things even if John didn’t really understand it- he just couldn’t find the one that combined the parts into one ring. Especially not if John didn’t want to sell a kidney to be able to afford it.

He went from jewelry store to jewelry store, grimacing at the prices and the reactions he imaged Roger having if he were to present him with those rings and he could feel his hopes sinking.

For one moment, he kind of wished he was dating Brian instead. Freddie didn’t have this kind of problem when he bought a ring for him and John knew he would not have any issues finding one for Brian either. But when he thought about it for longer than a second, he scrunched up his face in disgust. Brian was his brother. And a prick.

He had also not invited Freddie for a reason even though he knew he could find a ring for Roger in under an hour which he would love but John didn’t want that. He wanted to be the one to find the ring. Maybe it was a bit childish but it was his engagement. He loved Freddie but the man was already so involved in his love life- having introduced the two and played matchmaker and he would be John’s best man if Roger says yes- John wanted to do this on his own.

John left another jewelry store without a ring and with only more examples of what he didn’t want.

He groaned in annoyance, fumbling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lightening one. He had promised himself as soon as he had a ring, he would quit smoking but for now, he had went through more packs than ever. At least it felt like it. It probably didn’t help that he hadn’t told anyone about his plans yet. Brian couldn’t keep a secret like this to save his life and Freddie would offer to help and John had never had the heart to deny his help when he offered it with his puppy eyes. So he had kept it a secret.

One more store, John decided, then he would call it a quits for today and try again after doing some more research about which stores he could go to.

He found a small store in a side-alley, squeezed in between an occult store and a tiny café. He had never seen it before but decided to give it a try. It couldn’t be any worse than with any of the other stores.

The only person inside was a small, old lady who lit up when she saw him.

“Oh, hello there, my dear! How can I help you?”

Her smile was much more gentler than any of the other salespersons he had met today. Not that he blamed them- they were only doing their jobs, too- but it got frustrating after a while. He returned her smile with a tired one from himself as he approached the counter.

“I’m looking for an engagement ring.”

The woman’s face lit up even more if that was even possible and she nodded in excitement.

“Do you have any ideas about it yet or are you open for suggestions?”

“He’s quite picky. I can tell you what he doesn’t like and then we can go from there?”

“I can bring a few rings out for you to point out what’s good and what's bad. One moment, please.” She shuffled towards one of the showcases and pulled out a small assemble of rings to place them in front of John. “Those are some more popular styles for men.”

John sighed and nodded. He couldn’t blame her for doing the same thing like everyone else. They couldn’t know what Roger liked.

“He isn’t really a fan of those big, broad bands. He likes thinner bands.”

The woman hummed thoughtfully before putting the rings she had picked to the side and came around the counter, waving John to follow her.

“Let’s do this differently. Point out which parts of the rings you like and we go on from there.”

John nodded again. It wasn’t much different from how the rest of his day had went and he obediently pointed out stuff he knew Roger liked and also made sure to mention what didn’t work at all for them, hoping it would lead to something. He didn’t have much hope if he was being honest but he wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

After many rings, the woman hummed again and told him to wait as she picked out rings she thought to fit his needs. Meanwhile, John checked his phone to see several messages from Roger who took his lunch break to send him some selfies and John quickly sent a couple of hearts back and saved the pictures in his folder for Roger’s selfies he made on his phone.

I think I have something for you. Look at those, dear, and let me know what you think about them.”

John flinched but composed himself quickly when the woman looked at him with one eyebrow lifted, gesturing towards a new selection of rings.

They were way better than her first try and much more of what John had envisioned for Roger. He carefully squashed the little shimmer of hope that threatened to rise in his chest just so he wouldn’t get immediately disappointed if something didn’t work out in the end.

“I like this one.” He lifted a silver ring with three diamonds- a bigger one in the middle and two smaller one framing it- and held it up to inspect it closer. “Do you maybe have it with something else than diamonds?”

“Hm, a Bezel setting with three stones. I do have a couple of those in the back, I think. No diamonds?”

“Not only diamonds if possible. One or two are okay. Just for some contrast?”

She chuckled softly, already shuffling towards the door behind the counter. It only took a few minutes, then she came back with a handful of more rings, all of the same or similar making as the one he had liked.

John allowed himself a little bit of excitement.

“So tell me about your man, then. He must be special.”

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” John whispered, unable to suppress a smile. “He works as a radio host and I love him so much.”

The old lady patted his hand, then passed him another ring, one that was just a little different from the one before.

“How did you two meet?”

“A friend introduced us and basically played matchmaker. After a couple of months, he eventually asked me out and took me to a car show.”

He remembered that day clearly. He had been pining for Roger for a while- thinking the man was way out of his league- but he had showed up at his house to fetch him for brunch with Freddie and Brian and nervously told him about the car show, asking him if he wanted to go there with him as a date. John had been ecstatic to say the least.

It had been a wonderful date. They had walked between the displayed cars, their fingers brushing together until John had found the courage to tangle their fingers together, both of them blushing bright red but happy about it. Roger had dropped him off at his apartment with a chaste kiss and immediately asked for another date which John of course accepted.

“He sounds like a lovely young man. Do you already know how you will ask him?”

John shook his head and took the next ring she offered him for inspection.

“No. Not yet. At home, probably.”

The next ring was gold with two pale green stones and a blueish one in the middle and John immediately knew that this was the one. The woman must have noticed something about his expression changing because she made a satisfied sound and patted his arm again.

“This one then? A beautiful ring with moonstone and moissanite. I’m sure your boy will love it.”

It did end up costing more than he had hoped for but it was the perfect ring and Roger was more than worth it. The whole way home, he couldn’t keep his fingers off the small velvet box.

There were so many ways he could ask Roger. He knew Roger didn’t mind a public proposal- he liked being the center of attention- but it wasn’t what John wanted to do.

He stopped at a supermarket to get some groceries that they still needed but barely even thought about what he was putting into his shopping cart, too distracted by thinking about the proposal.

When he eventually made it home, he was packed with two big bags full of groceries which might or might not include some Jaffa Cakes and wine- he had got a big thing done today and he was proud of himself and willing to indulge himself- and spotted Roger’s shoes carelessly thrown onto the floor next to their full shoe shelf.

“I’m home!” he shouted as he kicked the shoes out of the way.

There was some noise from further inside the apartment and then Roger appeared on the other end of the hallway. His hair was dishevelled and he was wearing one of John’s very short shorts and a shirt that just about reached the hem of the shorts along with some mismatched socks.

“Hey, baby. Need some help?”

Roger pressed a quick kiss to his mouth in greeting before taking one of the bags and helped him putting their stuff away. John kissed him after they were done, resting one hand on his hip as he pulled him close. Roger laughed and wrapped his arms around his neck, willingly opening his mouth and letting himself pressed up against the kitchen counter. John wasn’t planning to have sex with him, though, and so he broke the kiss but stole another peck before stepping back.

“What have you’ve been up to today?” he asked.

Roger kissed his cheek again, then dragged him towards their bedroom. There were clothes all over the floor, the bed and just generally every available surface. John stopped in the threshold, blinking in confusion while Roger stepped over a pile of clothes, spread his arms and gestured towards the chaos.

“I decided to go through my stuff and sort of some old stuff, get rid of things I don’t wear anymore and so on.” Roger bit his lips sheepishly. “But-”

“You mostly just went through your clothes and got distracted by stuff and didn’t sort anything?” John offered and Roger laughed and nodded.

“I don’t think I want to throw anything away right now.”

John picked up a dark green scarf, wrapped it around Roger’s neck and pulled him close to press a kiss to his nose which made him scrunch up his face and giggle. John laughed, too and let Roger put on a weird looking patterned hat on him.

“We can sort the stuff at least.” John suggested. “Get a little bit of order to your half of the closet.”

“My half.” Roger mocked him, doing an impressive imitation of John’s accent while drawing quotation marks into the air. “More like my six-seventh of the closet.”

John contemplated that statement for a moment- long enough for Roger to start laughing again- and hummed thoughtfully.

“I think I have at least three-seventh of the closet.”

“Three-seventh? Is this your professional opinion?”

John nodded, then shrugged.

“In my professional opinion, yes. Three-seventh sounds about right. I can ask Brian for a second opinion, though. We’ll make a study out of it. It will keep us busy for a day or so.”

Roger got up to his tiptoes to kiss John once more- probably to shut him up- and he laughed against the blond’s mouth, bending down a little bit. The kiss was slow and lazy.

“And what did you do?” Roger asked when they pulled apart again. “Did you enjoy your day off?”

There was a small, harmless lie on top of John’s tongue- window shopping for Brian’s and Freddie’s birthdays- but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. No time like the present, right? He could agonize for weeks or months for the perfect moment or he could just do it now.

“I got you something, actually.”

“Deaks!” Roger groaned, hitting his chest in mock-annoyance. “It’s your free day, you’re supposed to get stuff for yourself and not for me!”

John smiled and let Roger roll his eyes at him, one hand slipping into his pocket and pulled the box out without letting him see it yet.

“Do you want to see it?” he asked.

Roger still looked slightly exasperated but he nodded. His face went through several emotions- too fast for John to recognize them all- as soon as John got down on one knee and when he opened the box, he gasped audible.

“Rog-”

“You have to be shitting me!” Roger interrupted him. “Wait right there!”

He turned around, almost stumbling over a pair of pants as he rushed into their closet, leaving John kneeling in their bedroom and very confused. This wasn’t what he had imagined.

There was some noise as if Roger was moving stuff, then he came rushing back, triumphantly waving a small velvet box and John’s laughed, feeling tears rising in his eyes.

Roger ended up kneeling in front of them, both of them laughing and close to crying and he opened his box with shaking fingers to reveal a slightly broader, matt silver band with a small, onyx stone.

“Go on.” Roger said and John chuckled.

“Unbelievable.” He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. “Roger, I won’t lie to you, I didn’t really plan this through. I only got the ring today and it took me so long to find one that’s good enough for you and all I want to say is: I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Roger was nodding before he even finished talking, already holding out his hand for him to slip the ring on- which he did with shaking fingers.

“It’s beautiful.” Roger whispered, kissing John before straightening up again. “I have planned this out for weeks. I was going to wait for our anniversary and ask you after ordering take-out when we eat it on the sofa while watching something with either Winona Rider or Mark Ruffalo.”

John laughed softly but Roger just pressed a finger against his lips and went on.

“But now we’re here and I had a whole speech prepared but I’ll save it for another time. I love you more than anything else in the world and I want to hear about how you’ll math out how much space I take up in our closet for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

John had stopped trying to hold his tears back, letting them run down his face freely. He managed to choke out a “Yes.” and let Roger put the ring on him.

They kissed messily, both of them crying and laughing and toppled over, Roger crawling on top of John to kiss him senseless.

“I love you.” Roger whispered against his lips, cupping his face in both his hands and kissed his lips, cheeks, forehead and just about every part of his face he could reach. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Love you, too.”

#jogerweek2019 #joger #dealor

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aching-tummies · 5 years

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Snowy Days, Aunt Flow, and Sleep

TMI warning. Gonna be talking about Aunt Flow.

Aunt Flow decided to visit today. Great...it's cold, it's snowing, it's slippery and treacherous to walk around outside, I'm at work where I have to stand all day before I slide around outside, trying not to trip or twist something too far. For those unaware, Aunt Flow packs something called "cramps" when she comes--it's like when an actual aunt brings or shares something nobody asked for or wanted--e.g. stories of your snot-nosed, game-stealing, you-blaming, brat of a cousin. The cramps are why I'm also complaining about the snow and cold. Cramps always suck, but when they come on top of the already cramped muscles from shivering all day it's not just painful, it's exhausting. Also, Aunt Flow's effects on one's body, the new pains and cramps everywhere, tend to make walking and moving different. You could move the way you normally do, but you're usually "rewarded" with a sharp pinch to your innards for it. Trying to parkour and "Twister" my way through all the loose snow drifts all over the sidewalks on a normal day is pretty bad and I always run the risk of spraining something. Heck, my entire right side still smarts from when I basically sled down the front steps...without a sled. With the cramps and internal pinching to contend with, trying to navigate the snowy outdoors becomes even more difficult, frustrating, and often painful than an ordinary snowy day.

Luckily, I had the foresight to pack supplies this morning (new bag...haven't put Aunt-Flow supplies into it yet) as well as slipped on some leg-warmers I had lying around. I actually didn't know it was snowing when I put them on--I thought my legs felt chilly before bed last night so I slipped the leg-warmers on on a whim and went to bed. I decided not to remove them before heading to work today 'cuz I wanted to test out whether or not they're the kind that will stay up despite gravity and movement (so far, yes).

I've been dreading Aunt Flow's visit for a long time. I used to be pretty regular and could usually predict what days I'd have to switch to black underwear. Since 3rd year Uni...nope. I was aiming to get into a highly competitive program at the time, so I skived on sleep, a proper diet, etc. I didn't take care of myself and I could tell I was running my body to the ground. Back then the skipped days felt like a triumph against nature--I had warded off the Bloody Monthly Devil and postponed having to do an impromptu set of sheets in the laundry. The triumph was short-lived as I started to live in fear--was it actually going to come? After the academic semesters wrapped up and I had 4 months at home, things started to try to return to normal. Nasty business...it was like trying to pass all of my skipped periods at once. It lasted longer than it should have, the cramps were about five times more intense--basically, everything was dialed up exponentially. Fourth year comes and I realize there's a new "pattern"...not necessarily in dates, 'cuz those were waaay unpredictable. The new pattern was that even if Aunt Flow didn't arrive in all her crimson nightmare-ishness, she'd send her "luggage" with her for about two weeks some random time of the month. All the cramps and digestive issues, and the constant anxiety of whether or not I get to wear my favorite pair of underwear, but barely any of the blood...or it'd be double or triple what it should be as though Aunt Flow decided, "riiight! I couldn't make it out to visit you last month, or four months ago...so...here, I'll just send you EVERYTHING! Oh...whoops...that was the teal pair, wasn't it? Your favorite?"

Back to the present, I guess. I've since graduated post-secondary and it seems my body is trying to right itself. Luckily for me, right before I left for work I thought, "if Aunt Flow comes, it'll probably come today...grab supplies". I've been wrong before, but everyone that deals with an Aunt Flow knows that the second she enters your thoughts, you grab supplies just to ward off the bad thoughts--even if she doesn't come at all.

I'm not sure about anyone else, but for me there are different kinds of periods. There are the "nice" ones where I only cramp a little and can go about my day, there's the ones where I'm nauseous all the time, the ones that decide to make me hungry literally all the time, sometimes the hungry one is coupled with my entire digestive system forgetting that it's supposed to digest/absorb the stuff I eat and it all goes straight through me, the ones that mess with my moods, the ones that mess with my taste-buds, and the ones that make me really lethargic and sleepy. Sometimes it's a combination of a few of these "symptoms"...yeah, it sucks. I kind of wish that being ace and a virgin meant I could opt out of Aunt Flow's visits--dude, I know I'm not pregnant. I haven't boinked anyone, so leave me alone!

Today's visit is shaping up to be a lethargic/sleepy one. I got off of work and had plans to take the bus out to a store further away (a couple of transfers over) to use a limited time coupon to get some item. I went, I got the thing, and headed back on the same routes...which usually means staying awake and being super anxious that I'll miss my stop. The legargic feeling got to me on the ride home and I'm sure I nodded off for a bit. The fact that the sun had set didn't help matters 'cuz it was already hard enough trying to figure out what stop we were at in the dark. Luckily, I managed to get off on the right stop and made it home. I was so tired and had plans to just toss my purchase into a corner of my room and pass out. No dice--family wants to eat dinner together...on top of that they want me to do some of the prep-work (slicing veggies). I get down to business, slicing veggies and praying I don't nod off. I don't need more cuts on my hands, thanks, the ten or so I already have from various activities are plenty.

I prep dinner and hear that they want to hold off on cooking and eating, so I go upstairs, intent on setting up my purchase (it was some organizer for my bathroom) and maybe going online to pass the time until dinner. Before you say "coffee--coffee is your answer", coffee tends to screw with my stomach on a good day...usually in a minor way. When Aunt Flow visits, coffee makes her really angry...and when she's angry she sends more cramps. I had my coffee ready and waiting in a thermos in my bag all day...but when I felt the tell-tale twinges during work that told me "she's here" I realized "great...tired...and coffee is not an option".

I'm pretty sure I ended up napping in and out for about twenty minutes at a time. I dragged myself out of bed to see if family wanted to eat. I was hungry, but I was so exhausted that I actually prepared to tell them "gonna go to bed early--not eating dinner". I actually wanted to just sleep off the lethargy and deal with the hunger pangs after waking up...but no dice on that one. Dinner tonight wasn't anything super enticing to me, but family decided they wanted all of it gone 'cuz there wasn't room in the fridge to put stuff in. I was craving hot tea 'cuz I was really cold (hungry = harder time regulating body heat, I guess), so I made a beeline for the hot water. Luckily for me, family didn't empty the thing boiling greens and there was literally just enough left for me to make one mug of tea. Yay! No 20+ minute wait for the electric kettle to heat up. I refilled the kettle (don't be a douch!) and made my way to dinner, still trying to come up with ways to maybe pawn off my food to my family members or maybe pack it in the fridge for later.

I made the tea and started picking at my dinner. I'm pretty sure I ate enough to ensure nobody would be concerned. I live with male family members so they wouldn't understand the nuances of Aunt Flow and I didn't want them to get concerned--I just wanted to sleep. Throughout the meal, I hoped and prayed that it'd just be lethargy and I wouldn't have to contend with cramps or hurried trips to the bathroom.

It's after dinner now and I'm back in my room. No intense cramps or trips to the bathroom (yet) 'cuz I guess I've lined my stomach with about two and a half mugs of hot tea. My stomach is sloshing and letting out some pretty intense burbles and it's pretty loud. I'm not even manipulating it--it's sloshing around just from my normal breathing. I don't feel stuffed or bloated, but my tummy's pretty full. Just lying here, it feels fine...but when I put a hand on it or press into it even lightly I feel like a full water-balloon

Anyway, all of this sort of inspired a couple of lines for me as fic-inspiration so I wrote out this post in hopes I'll go back to it for more inspiration to write, preferrably after I've gotten my long-awaited sleep.

Fic inspiration: -A knowing B is unwell 'cuz they're not the type to take naps and A just found B asleep in their outdoor clothes, halfway on the bed/couch. Clearly, they didn't intend to fall asleep. A debates whether or not to wake B for dinner, but B makes that decision for them, rousing on their own and grimacing when they realize they must have nodded off. B gets up and goes to dinner, seemingly intent on acting fine...but A knows and is concerned. -A knows B isn't feeling good when B makes a beeline for tea rather than sit down to eat dinner. A knows B's probably either chilly (maybe coming down with a cold), or has some stomach issues considering they're making themselves hot tea. -A knows B isn't feeling well when they see the apprehensive look on B's face at seeing dinner. That knowledge is further confirmed when B picks at their food in the beginning, and seems to be gulping down their tea at an alarming rate--trying to get it down before it cools or so it seems. A's concern-meter fills up and shatters when B finishes their portion of dinner. A suspects B was hungry, but knows from their expressions that they're not well or didn't want to eat for some reason. -A keeps an eye on B, knowing that B doesn't like being fussed over, but they're worried all the same. They ensure there's hot water in the kettle and A does a mental check to ensure they know where the heating packs are...in case B needs it. B's clearly nodding off against their will somewhere right now and A's waiting for when they're half-lucid to grill them about how they're feeling.

I've got an idea of the pairing I wanna write this for...but whether it'll actually happen is another story. I'm full and tired, but each time my tummy rumbles I'm low-key terrified it means I have T-5 seconds to get to the bathroom for one thing or another. Right now, each rumble sounds like a variation of those water-cooler things when they burble to suck in more air as people take water from it. Maybe I overdid it with the tea, but it beats having cramps and having to confine myself to the bathroom for a few hours.

#period #Aunt Flow #tummy kink #tummy ache #tummy cramps

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thecandywrites · 5 years

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The Perfect Magic Touch

ya’ll I have an obsession. Modern orcs. I have A MIGHTY THIRST for them. So here I am trying to sate my own thirst and if ya’ll like it too, that’s a bonus.

So- this is Rox- A CEO, a divorcee, a single dad trying to do his best to raise his son with his own dramatic and tragic backstory. Oh yes. All the cliches. And Zara a poor widow who had life do her wrong and has had to pull herself up by her own bootstraps, which again, CLICHE. I know but I don’t care. So enjoy.

Rox and Zara- The Perfect Magic Touch

You walked into the large office building, your specialized massage chair rolling behind you- a specialty item that had cost you a fortune but that you felt was worth the investment, it was made out of a titanium alloy that was both ridiculously light while also ridiculously strong and wildly adjustable so that you could work on the smallest midget dwarf or the largest orc and accommodate both and everyone in between.

Everyone smiled happily and waived and greeted you excitedly. You were a massage therapist and you had the sweetest gig ever. You came into the office and gave 5- 15 minute treatments to the office workers, usually you’d set up your chair on a floor and treat everyone on that floor that day which kept you very busy since it took you three weeks to get to every floor of the 15 story office building and you got paid in cash at the rate of a dollar a minute and you treated up to 20 patients every hour so you made about fifty dollars an hour plus tips which pushed you into the 75-100 dollar an hour range and you worked on average of 6 hours a day from 9-3 - five days a week at the office and then out of your home on Saturdays and you were making bank. You were incorporated yourself and you were insured yourself and you made your own hours while still being able to care for your daughter Audrey and yourself really well.

And the reason you were exceptionally successful was that you had what your teachers and clients called “the perfect touch” or “the magic touch” or combined and used most often “the perfect magic touch”. You weren’t actually magic but you had a gift and a talent as a massage therapist and your touch was considered to be the holy grail of perfect. You spoke the language of the body long before you had gone to college to learn it formally. You had the kind of touch that was both therapeutic and relaxing while balancing medically corrective, a skill most massage therapists spent years honing but that you just naturally had a knack for knowing and using. And it’s what made you so sought after.

Plus you made each client feel like you came all the way just for them and you seemed to remember everyone and their names and their spouses names and kids names and pets names and what was going on in their lives because you genuinely cared. And it was because you were genuine that your perfect magic touch was even better.

Even your Saturdays, when you chose to work them in your house, you were booked solid, you felt like a psychologist while you were a massage therapist because you heard everyone’s story and you had the whole picture of what was going on because you got everyone’s side but you never repeated what you heard from your clients and you earned their trust and confidence.

Your first stop after graduation was to this office building and to Mr. Rox Mikael’s office who was the new CEO of Kaziki Enterprises who he himself had only gotten that position a few months prior to your own arrival to the company. And every Friday, your last hour of the day was spent working on him and over the course of a couple of months you got to befriend him and were on very friendly terms with him. You were one of the privileged few who really got to know him as a person rather than just ‘the boss’ a feared and respected one at that. He was a divorcee himself with a son, Atris, only a couple of months older than your daughter and they were in the same grade in different schools, your daughter went to public school while Rox could afford to send his son to a private school. And you two bonded over the shenanigans your kids got into. Atris was always getting hurt playing sports or playing roughly with his friends and Audrey was Extra and Dramatic and you felt like your life with her was part soap opera and you both dreaded and feared her teenage years and you forbid her to date until she was a decade older than she was simply to save you and her some headaches and heartaches.

But today was a little different, today you were a little out of sorts because today was a certain anniversary.

“You ok?” Rox asked as he stripped his dress shirt and under shirt off because you treated him in the comfort and privacy of his office and he got you for a whole hour so he got a full upper body massage and he always took his shirts off so you could have all the access to his magnificent body you wanted before he came over to your massage chair but paused to look at you while you seemed deep in thought getting your lotion prepped on your hands. And to be honest, him stripping out of his shirts was usually your favorite part of the week. He was built like a god and he had no right to be as gorgeous or magnificent as he was. He was a half orc himself, half orc and half elf which meant his skin tone was much lighter and brighter than other orcs, your favorite color- turquoise, he had cheek bones and a jaw line you could cut a pussy on along with these tusks that while they weren’t as large as others, something about their super bright pearly whiteness banded and inlaid with gold in these gorgeous designs really popped and those big Bambi brown eyes he had made you swoon and he was just as broad as other orcs and just as well muscled and despite his office and desk job and was just naturally thicc in the best way. He had the best ass you’ve ever seen in your life and had gotten the pleasure of working on that you just wanted to sink your teeth into and he had pecks you wanted to motorboat and abs you could wash all your laundry on when you weren’t fantasizing licking the trail of hair that went from his belly button down and you felt you were gifted my the gods themselves when he would “accidentally” sport a boner but he did his best to hide them but you knew one when you saw one and he was packing. And he had a wonderful tuft of super dark brown, almost black- curly chest hair across his chest and it formed the happy trail from his pecks, to his belly button to his groin and god you just wanted to lick and kiss it all and his actual hair on his head was this gorgeous head of hair groomed impeccably well except for a single, big fat braid in the back of his head, which was the tradition of most orcs in this area was to have a single long braid in the back to put all their beads on.

He was your favorite client here. On top of being gorgeous, he was actually, genuinely nice, incredibly respectful, thoughtful, kind and generous. You could not understand how he was divorced. You couldn’t understand how any sane woman in her right mind would ever leave Mr. Perfect for anyone else. It just wasn’t fair and he had fueled so many lust filled fantasies you’ve been having especially since you met him. You were actually interested in him but you held back because you were a larger woman and a human elf mixed person yourself and you didn’t think he would find you attractive.

Because being half elf, meant you got the amazing eyes, great cheek bones and the half pointed ears. But that’s where your elf heritage ended for you personally. From the neck down you were very much human, you had larger breasts but coupled with a gut and butt and thunder thighs and it didn’t matter how much you tried to starve yourself, or go on diet after diet, the weight stayed with you. So after a while and a lot of therapy you simply learned to accept yourself while also really throwing yourself into really good food because if you were going to be big, you were going to enjoy it. Most people assumed you were half orc actually just without the tusks. Your sisters, no they got the more lithe body types and bone structures in their faces that leaned more towards elves, they just didn’t get the eyes. There were many days you’d give up your gorgeous rich and deep turquoise eyes if it meant you were half the size you were simply to keep people from treating you like garbage because you were ‘fat’.

Meanwhile Rox’s ex wife might as well be a super model and you definitely were not, at least in your own opinion, you felt like the moment you hit 30 there was nothing about yourself to be desired anymore. So it stayed a lovely fantasy.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just having an off day, everyone has those.” You tried to dismiss with a shrug of your shoulders as your face stayed downcast but he seemed very reluctant to let it go.

“What’s made it an off day?” He asked, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle as he didn’t move from his spot.

Truth be told he had actually become fiercely protective of you since you started here, hell since the moment he met you. He was so proud of your zero flirtation policy because you were a legitimate masseuse and he highly respected you for your skills especially and he would not hear of anyone talking bad about you or gossiping about you or heaven forbid talking licentiously about you. One poor soul actually had the nerve to proposition you for a “happy ending massage” and when Rox overheard it as he was walking by and nearly went into a rage. After that moment Rox changed your contracted agreement so that the company technically subcontracted you out so that you were protected by HR from any and all sexual harassment and even gave you health insurance along with a retirement plan which was the greatest thing ever and so you technically got a paycheck in addition to being paid in your traditional way but you were under no one’s authority but your own, not even Rox could ever boss you around, not that he would but still. And when you started working here- the call off rate dropped significantly on Mondays and Fridays and he could literally track which floor you had worked on the day before because suddenly the performances and productivity spiked the day after you came since the day you were on that floor, it lulled because people were distracted in anticipation of your treatments but the productivity spikes more than made up for it. People did so much better in their presentations because you were there to give them a few moments of treatment before their presentation and gave them pep talks during their treatments which means they usually did magnificently. You were the epitome of sunshine, bright, cheerful, funny a literal joy to be around so to see you down was bothersome. Especially to Rox.

“Well...” You began before you took a deep breath and looked away, weighing whether or not to tell him. “Rox, this is your time, you should enjoy it. What has made my day an off day is not something you or anyone else can fix.” You tried to circumvent with a halfhearted but brave smile but there was a sadness in your eyes that was killing Rox, like a knife to the heart, liver and kidneys that was slowly being twisted.

“It’s your time too, if you need to vent, I’m all ears.” Rox invited and you caved.

“Today is my wedding anniversary to my late husband, he died a year and a half ago, today we would have celebrated 15 years of marriage. I was a stay at home wife and mother for most of that time and when he died, he didn’t have much of a life insurance policy and by the time I paid for his funeral and paid off all our debt, which there was a lot of, there wasn’t much of anything left. So I split the last of it to pay for living expenses for Audrey and I- and to send me to college and to support us both while I was in college so I wouldn’t have to keep down a job and be a full time student and this career is something I’ve always wanted since I was in elementary school but I just never got a chance to pursue it before now, and with today being our anniversary..it’s um...it’s difficult. Because a small part of me misses him and a bigger part of me is still mad at him for dying and leaving me in the lurch, the last few months before graduation were really tough because my savings dwindled down to nothing and it felt like it was just me and my daughter against the world, you know? So...it’s just a lot of mixed feelings today, throwing me off kilter.” You informed him as he blinked in surprise. You wore a silicone wedding band while you worked and an actual wedding ring when you didn’t work, everyone just assumed you were married and while you usually always talked about your daughter, he realized, you had never mentioned your husband, or lack thereof before and he felt like a dick because here you had been talking and been friends for months and he didn’t know that about you. And he felt he should have.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured as his shoulders literally sagged.

“Thank you, so, it’s a very good thing I’m here today, I’m the kind of person that needs to stay busy and keep distracted and working is both.” You sighed tiredly with a brave smile that didn’t reach yo eyes, which you felt was your only redeeming quality. “So have a seat and let me do that and keep this poor widow from having to tell you her sob story.” You gently teased as you nodded to the chair with another forced smile and maybe your eyes were deceiving you but he seemed incredibly torn, like he wanted to hug you or hold you or something.

“Is there anything I can do? Any way at all I can help? At all?” Rox asked as he sat down into place, you were right, there wasn’t much of anything he could do to fix that and he felt surprisingly powerless and helpless- he hated those feelings, because of his own life experiences, he had worked incredibly hard all of his life to be where he was so he would never have to feel that way again, and here he had spent all this time being jealous of a dead man who had a beautiful, talented and wonderful wife and hoping and wishing and praying that he appreciated you and come to find out, he hadn’t, that bastard. Any man who failed to take care of his own, even in death, was a dishonor and a disgrace. Part of orc culture was that male orcs weren’t allowed to get married unless they could afford a good life insurance policy on themselves so that even in death they could care for their mates and partners for years after they died, usually at least ten. To not have enough to take care of you properly so that you could grieve properly because if his math was right, you would have had to go right into massage school within days, weeks at the most after loosing your husband, even the whole time you were in school you should have been mourning, you shouldn’t have had to worry about anything but getting yourself and your daughter through that emotionally. So to know that you had done so much more purely out of survival- that was unthinkable to him and he was outraged and outright offended, he was furious with your husband for leaving you in the lurch too. He only wished he had known you sooner and would have been able to do something sooner and saved you that hardship. But he would be damned if you ever encountered it again. However, what he hated even more was the see the light and fire in your eyes practically die out, even for the briefest of moments.

You were a trusted friend, one he had learned he could talk to and keep your confidence and he kept yours and you were the highlight of his week. Even getting his own paychecks didn’t compare to the solid hour of undivided attention from you. Because of the situation with his ex wife he had tried to swear off women, thinking they were all the same but you had proved how wrong he was to think that and put faith that maybe he just had gotten a bad one and that good women still existed in the world and that he shouldn’t give up hope that maybe he still had a chance of getting a good one, who would see him for him and not see him a stepping stone to bigger and better things that he couldn’t provide now matter how hard he worked. But you, you worked hard and you didn’t pull any punches and you went after what you wanted and had a fulfilling career on top of being a great mom, he admired you and admired your character and your work ethic, hell just your ethics in general he admired and inspired him to bolster his own. Even your size and shape was especially appealing, his ex wife had simply appealed to what he thought he should want since every other guy said that his wife was perfect. But he knew that she was far from it. She was as shallow as a puddle and so vain and so full of herself and he doubted she ever really loved anything, not even their son like she should. The only thing she ever loved was the money he made and what it could buy her and she was as fake as they came.

But you- no you were real, you were fun with an excellent sense of humor. You were charming and just a general delight to be around. You even cooked. Like cooked cooked, should have been a chef kind of cooked. He lost track of how many times you had brought him food, new recipes you were tying out and he had been ready to try to steal you away from your husband because the food alone was worth trying but he did not want to disrespect you or your own marriage vows and so he withheld himself but it only seemed to fuel his own jealousy while also fueling his own fantasies of pining you down to his desk and feasting on you properly.

So to see you so down actually hurt him and he was surprised at how much it hurt him. Like his heart was taken out of his chest and trampled on all over again. But at the same time, part of him also wanted to pin you to his desk and make you forget you ever had a husband and show you he could take care of you, in every way possible. He mused you could take him, hopefully comfortably. He was willing to bet he could fuck you right out of your funk and make your day a whole lot of better. But that could wait, now he just needed to focus on you.

“Not really no, but thank you for offering. I’m taking my daughter out to dinner tonight, just the two of us, we have a six o’clock reservation at Pappadaux’s, it’s our favorite restaurant besides Red Lobster and that will give me time to go home and get cleaned up and get her off the bus and get her cleaned up and her hair curled and put a tiny bit of makeup on her, just a light shimmering eyeshadow and a bit of mascara and some lip gloss because she’s 8 and she doesn’t need to be dolled up dolled up. But enough that she feels extra pretty and special and last year when we did this we had fun and we only cried a little as we reminded each other of the fun times we got to enjoy since we lost him. Hopefully tonight, we won’t cry at all.” You smiled fondly as you started working on his neck as your own voice cracked as tears began to flood your vision but you willed them away, not wanting to actually cry on Rox. That would be unprofessional. Because the gods knew you just wanted to cry into his chest before asking him to help make you feel better than you ever did...by fucking you senseless. But no, he would never go for that and you’d ruin everything by even asking, even as a joke.

“I hope it turns out that way. That sounds...like a nice way to spend the evening.” Rox murmured as his own voice was thick with emotion and he willed his own eyes not to shed tears either, because he didn’t want to be unprofessional either but still, you were a trusted friend and his instincts were screaming at him as his mind worked into overtime, grasping at straws and trying to think of a way to make it better anyway. And he was just so close to throwing professionalism out the window and make this personal. Well, more personal than it already was. Fuck this was frustrating.

“It will be nice. I get both of us some pretty flowers and we dress up and we get each other some jewelry, it’s lovely.” You nodded as your smile grew more genuine and the tone of your voice got lighter as your tears dried up as Rox’s ear’s literally perked up. Flowers and jewelry, he could do that, he could work with that. That was easy and it was a start and that’s all he needed.

“What do you usually get yourself? Jewelry wise...I’m just..curious.” Rox asked, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious or transparent.

“Oh, necklaces, usually pendants and earrings, I have very sensitive ears, so I need to either get stainless steel or 24k gold, nothing with nickle or zinc in it, I can’t even do 925 silver.” You answered casually as you finished with his neck and started with his shoulders and once done with those you worked on his back and once done there you brought a chair over and worked on his- well frankly- impressive arms that were like tree trunks, you were pretty sure he could heft you up with one arm if he wanted to. Oh hell you had had fantasies of him picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder to fuck you against a wall or on his desk because he was surely strong enough for that. Focus Zara. Job at hand, job at hand.

Because let’s be honest, Rox was..perfect. By any standard. He was gorgeous, he was tall and broad and very well muscled and intimidating when he wanted to be. And he was your favorite color. Even though he was very quiet in the beginning of your treatments, once he got used to you, he opened up and let his hair down so to speak and you two shared a comfortable ease with each other and got along really well and became fast friends and were on first name basis with each other and while you both tried to remember to stay professional, that didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun and you had often told him of the antics of your daughter or other fun things you found on the internet since you saw him last, in fact you usually stayed a whole 10-15 minutes late just sharing funny memes you found on the internet or funny videos. Rox was a very good father, at least that’s the impression you got from him anyway, Rox’s own father was amazing and he was determined to be a good father to his son despite his ex wife who was and who his own mother was, by all accounts, a bitch and had left him for his former boss who was now retired and he had gotten this job thinking his wife would come back to him but she had simply gave birth to a son then gotten plastic surgery to make herself hotter than hot and super model skinny and moved on to ‘greener pastures’, gold digging tramp that she was and was usually on the hunt for sugar daddies since she didn’t work besides fucking said greener pastures.

And you couldn’t understand how she could ever use and then leave Rox, he was actually genuinely nice and kind and thoughtful and so sweet and generous- at least when he was with you otherwise he was revered, driven and focused. He commanded attention and respect everywhere he went, and he worked incredibly hard and led by example and you could do nothing but highly respect that. He dressed really nicely, he groomed himself spectacularly well, he worked out and took care of himself. But even as intimidating as he was, for you, he might as well be putty in your hands because you could bring him to his knees with just the squeeze of your hands in the right spots. But he loved it. He loved it when ‘hurt him so good’ and attacked those knots in his body that he got from working out or bad posture and it cracked you up to hear him whimper and hiss and whine, teasingly accusing you of enjoying hurting him. ‘I’m not sadistic or masochistic either, a little pain now means more pleasure later.’ you had told him a time or two. That and you ended each treatment you gave him with a really good hard back scratch, easily memorizing his ‘itchy spots’ he had. And the groaning and growling he did as he playfully kicked his legs like he was a dog cracked you up and left you laughing quite hard, sometimes to the point of crying and needing to use his private bathroom so you wouldn’t pee yourself. Even scratching his scalp, which he didn’t mind redoing his hair because the scalp massage and scalp scratching was divine and you loved to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head and wondered if he had the same expression when he came too.

“So, would you and your daughter simply like to go alone or would you mind some company?” Rox finally gathered the courage to ask as he debated the last few long minutes whether or not he should even ask. But he felt like this was his one opportunity and he had to take it. He just had to.

“As in you?” You asked curiously as you paused massaging his arm as you bent over to see his face and give him a curious look.

“Well, me and Atris.” He corrected before you sat back up and continued to work on his forearm.

“Does Atris even like seafood? Pappadaux’s is an expensive seafood restaurant. And nose bleed expensive at that. Audrey and I only go for really special occasions.” You questioned as you realized, if anyone else had asked you would have told them no but Rox...Rox was different...he...he was friend and technically was in your situation and you two had bonded over being parents, he just didn’t know before today that you were both single parents. You had known he was a single parent, you had actually listened to him talk at length about his mother and especially his ex-wife and how he felt uncomfortable trying to date with a son his age and how he felt he had to be picky for his son’s sake but feared his own pickiness was going to lead to his everlasting being alone. And you had never felt more kindred to him than in those moments because you felt the exact same way. And you simply reminded him that he should stay picky because it was better to hold out for a good one than to settle out of desperation and be disappointed again, which is exactly what had happened to you. You yourself never mentioned that you were single because you didn’t want to appear to be a gold digger like his ex-wife, only going after him because he was the CEO and you cherished your friendship with him so much you didn’t want to ruin it. Plus he was an orc, his ex wife was an elf/human hybrid just like you only she got the best of both worlds, she was gorgeous and you worried that he would never look at either humans or elves or any combinations of that kindly because of her. That and you were just a curvaceous, fluffy masseuse, he was a CEO big shot who deserved arm candy half your size and twice as beautiful as you to be his trophy wife. You were no trophy. You felt weren’t even a prize and as close as you were, was as close as you were ever going to get to him. He deserved better. But him asking to go out to dinner with you and your daughter and actually include his son? His precious Atris? Almost too much to hope for. Maybe he was just being nice. He didn’t mean that in a romantic way, he meant that in a friendly manner. Which was very sweet of him.

“Yeah,” Rox confirmed.

“Well let me ask Audrey and see what she thinks and I’ll either call you or text you her answer.” You offered, trying to remind yourself that your daughter was the most important person in your life and she needed to be ok with having your usually private dinner alone open to others.

“Ok.” He agreed as you moved to the later parts of his treatment, a really good back scratch and his scalp.

“There we go, all better?” You asked as you wiped your hands off on a wet wipe.

“Yes, much,” Rox nodded as he got up and put his shirts back on.

“Next time next week?” You asked as you went to your calendar with a pen.

“Absolutely.” Rox nodded and you nodded and put his name in that space as he dug into his wallet and pulled out two one hundred dollar bills, he was usually your most generous client, often gifting you a hundred dollar bill for the one full hour on him and gave them to you.

“Hey, there’s two, did they stick together?” You said as you tried to give him the other bill.

“Nope, just in case I don’t see you again in a few hours, dinner’s on me tonight.” Rox explained.

“So if you do end up coming, do you want it back then?” You asked as you hesitantly and slowly brought your arm back into your body.

“Nope,” he shook his head no with a victorious grin.

“Ok, well thank you very much.” You thanked him as you put the money into your pocket as you broke down your chair and put it back together in it’s suit case form again.

“Hey Zara?” Rox asked as he put his tie back on as he watched you appreciatively, a thousand and one things whirling in his mind and heart to ask you, to tell you and couldn’t decide what to go with first.

“Hmm?” You answered as you paused to look up at him.

“Not to be weird or overstepping boundaries, well anymore than I already did inviting myself and my son to dinner, did you need or want rather..um, a hug?” He asked awkwardly and you couldn’t help but smile. He only ever seemed to be awkward with you. Otherwise he was cool and collected and smooth. It made you appreciate the fact that he was just a normal person just like everyone else.

“I would love a hug.” You nodded as you met each other half way and hugged. You sighed contentedly and happily as he squeezed you, oh this was heavenly. Shit, fuck. Well, might as well go for broke. “Ok, I need a favor,” you said, your words muffled by his shirt. Not wanting to ever leave his embrace. Ever. Again.

“Anything.” Rox returned.

“Ok so I’m gonna put my arms around your neck and I need you to lift me without hurting yourself and squeeze around me in like my bra strap area to crack my back.” You requested before he pulled away just enough that you could do that and you could feel him smile as he stood to his full height, both arms wrapped tightly and securely around you to keep you securely to his chest so you didn’t have to hold on for dear life and all the weight from your hold around is neck, just enough to give your back some relieving stretching and cracked your back. And not just that area, he changed his hold a couple times to get your whole back. It was magnificently epic. And this time it was your turn to make those pleased growling groans which made Rox rumble a deep chuckle as he just hugged and held you for the briefest of moments but mentally chided himself for relishing every precious nano second of your embrace before he set you back down. Oh yeah, having worked out with way more weight than he estimated you to be just paid off.

“Thanks Rox, you’re the best.” You thanked him graciously and kissed his cheek super quickly but sweetly all the same as you let go and walked back to your chair. “See ya.” You called after him over your shoulder, your bright smile returning and the fire in your eyes lighting up the room again, not noticing how he seemed to be frozen in place, barely breathing, his big Bambi brown eyes never leaving you until you actually left his sight before he seemed to come back to his senses and shake his head out of his stupor before the largest smile plastered itself onto his face.

He had a date. Oh he was so happy and excited. He immediately left work and surprised the babysitter by coming home on time to get his son off the bus at his apartment since he had his son on the weekends.

“Hey Dad, you’re home early.” Atris noted as he got off the bus and walked towards his Dad curiously.

“Yeah, listen, I’m waiting on a call or possibly a text and we may have plans for dinner so I need you to go get changed out of your uniform and get dressed in something really nice and even if I don’t get the text, we’re going out to eat for dinner.” Rox informed his son urgently because even if Audrey wasn’t cool with company, he wanted to try to sit close to you and pay for dinner anyway even if he had to do it from across the restaurant and hoped that wasn’t creepy as Atris simply gave his dad a curious look but obeyed as they went into the apartment building up to Rox’s apartment, the loft apartment all the way at the top and got dressed out of his school uniform into some nice clothes, suitable for going out to a fancy restaurant.

“So who are we going out to eat with?” Atris asked as he emerged from his room in a nice polo shirt and a pair of slacks. Hoping this was nice enough.

“Zara Oliver and her daughter Audrey.” He answered as he kept refreshing his phone and turned his ringers all the way up to make sure he didn’t miss the text or the call. Trying to give you time to get your own daughter off the bus and ask Audrey while you helped her with her homework.

“Who?” Atris asked, not recognizing those names.

“Zara is my massage therapist.” Rox supplied.

“Like actual massage therapist therapist or “massage therapist”.” Atris asked for clarification with air quotes as Rox narrowed his eyes and gave his son an unimpressed look.

“Medical massage therapist, legitimate, she has her degrees and certifications and everything and before you ask, no this isn’t a date date. Today is Zara’s wedding anniversary, but her husband died over a year ago so we’re just going to keep her and her daughter company for the evening, you will behave and you’ll be charming.” Rox commanded his son firmly.

“Ok, what’s this Zara like anyway?” Atris asked.

“Lovely.” Rox answered as he turned back to his phone as a grin broke out on his face.

“What’s her daughter like?” Atris asked.

“Dramatic.” Rox snorted a laugh which got Atris to snort one too. “Oh so normal?” Atris teased.

“I guess.” Rox shrugged before you texted.

“And how old is Audrey? Do I get to babysit her or something?” Atris asked.

“She’s a few months younger than you so no but it would be nice if you conversed nicely with her.” Rox answered.

“I’ll try but if she talks about My Little Pony or Littlest Petshop, or something else super lame, I’m playing Candy Crush on my phone.” Atris warned his dad. Who spared him another warning look.

“Or not.” Atris gulped.

‘Audrey said yes, I already called the restaurant to change the reservation for four so I’ll see you there at six.’ Rox shook his fit in victory.

“Yes!” Rox cheered. “Ok, we gotta go, we gotta pick a few things up.” Rox informed his son as he seemed to spring into action and quickly took his son to the florist, to the jewelry store and to a chocolate store before they headed to the restaurant.

“So, let me get this straight, we’re not going on a “date” date but yet you’re giving this woman and her daughter, flowers, chocolates and jewelry…?” Atris asked as he sat in the passenger seat of his dad’s car and held everything as he scarfed down from his own box of chocolates.

“...Yes. Ok, I’ll level with you. This woman that we’re meeting tonight, is the single most attractive woman I’ve ever met, she’s amazing and gorgeous and even if her daughter is the biggest hellion brat, I would still give my left nut to just go on one date with her and if this is my one date, I’ll take it. Everyone in my company tries to flirt with her but she has a zero flirtation policy and so far she’s dropped clients left and right for even trying to cross the line and so even I don’t flirt with her while she’s working. We’ve kept things friendly and professional and I’m praying I don’t screw this up because if I do, I’ll have to find another massage therapist and no one compares with her. She’s human and she has these beautiful tiny delicate hands and she could bring me to my knees, has brought me to my knees crying because she’s a medical massage therapist and her treatments are painful but medically corrective rather than ‘relax make you feel good’ massage. Ok? So yeah I know, it’s overkill and a bit much, but this is my one shot and I gotta go big or go home you know? I didn’t even know she was single or a widow until today when she told me it was her anniversary with her late husband and she told me she was going to spend it alone with her daughter and I couldn’t... accept that so I offered for you and I to accompany her and her daughter for dinner and she accepted and I think she only accepted it as friends. I didn’t ask to do this under any other circumstances.” Rox explained.

“Oh so she friendzoned you like everyone else and you’re trying to get out of the friendzone.” Atris realized with a grin.

“...yes.” Rox huffed as his shoulders slouched as he grumped at his windshield.

“Ok,” Atris nodded in understanding before they sat in silence for a while.

“What are the chances her daughter is cute?” Atis asked.

“100%” Rox answered without hesitation.

“Really?” Atris blinked in surprise as a little grin grew on his face.

“Yeah, she’s shown me pictures, Audrey is gorgeous just like her mother.” Rox admitted.

“Like how gorgeous are we talking here?” Atris asked curiously.

“Long blonde hair down to her butt, bright turquoise eyes, gorgeous.” Rox recalled.

“Ooh,” Atris oohed.

“Yeah and we’re both going to be perfect gentlemen got it?” Rox urged.

“Got it.” Atris nodded and grinned giddily.

Once at the restaurant, Rox and Atris both stopped in their tracks when they saw you and Audrey relaxing on one of the couches in the little garden area by the fountain as the air in both of their lungs crashed from them and left them both breathless. Rox had only ever seen you in your scrubs with minimal makeup and your hair up in either a pony tail or a messy bun. Now, you were in this beautiful flowing blouse and leggings and your long hair was down in ringlet curls and your make up was full on ethereal goddess and even Audrey looked especially darling. He was not worthy. Don’t fuck it up Rox. He thought to himself.

“Dad, please tell me that’s her.” Atris murmured to his father as he looked from Audrey to his dad.

“Yeah, that’s them.” Rox confirmed as he willed his body forward and tried not trip over his own feet as he suddenly felt extremely clumsy and awkward like he did when he first met you.

“Hey, you guys made it.” You greeted cheerfully as you turned your head and saw them, their movement catching the corner of your eye as you and Audrey found your feet to greet them.

“You must be Atris, hi, I’m Zara and this is my daughter Audrey, thank you guys so much for joining us tonight.” You introduced as you held your hand out for him to shake as he finally tore his eyes off of Audrey to look up at you as Audrey half hid herself behind you shyly.

“Hi,” Atris greeted but his voice cracked something awful and his cheeks instantly blushed a deep green as he shook your hand and then pulled his hand back and you could tell he was embarrassed.

��Atris, it’s ok, my husband was well into his thirties and his voice still cracked. Even my voice cracks from time to time in fact it did this afternoon when I was talking to your dad so it’s ok, no need to be embarrassed.” You reassured him as Rox smiled gratefully at you.

“Thanks.” Atris mumbled before he offered the flowers in his other hand towards Audrey. “These are for you.” Atris said as Rox seemed to remember he was holding flowers too and handed them to you along with the gift bag that had the chocolates and the jewelry in it to you as well, the jewelry being slipped into the bag from the chocolate store.

“Aww, thank you.” You smiled happily as you graciously took them from him as Audrey mirrored you.

“Thank you.” Audrey said softly as she happily took the flowers and smelled them. “So how do you know my mom?” Audrey questioned Rox directly. “Do you pay her to hurt you?” She asked pointedly as you burst into laughter as both of you blushing as he was laughing too, albeit a little nervously while Atris was all kinds of confused.

“Baby, again, you can’t say it like that. Yes I treat him with massage therapy but when you say it like that- it makes it sound like an innuendo like I’m a dominatrix who specializes in actually inflicting pain with hot wax, gags, whips and chains and things like that, and I definitely do not do that, so you need to stop asking everyone that. Because when you do you can embarrass them and me.” You explained. Even though Rox was now envisioning just that with you in a black leather corset with fishnets and thigh high heels and a riding crop with himself gagged with his hands tied behind his back as he whimpered around his gag for mercy and release as his cock would be hard enough to fuck through steel and having the hardest time not physically reacting to that. Oh fuck, too late, uh, dead puppies, dead kittens, grandma naked, his ex wife fucking a ninety year old man geizer, there, that killed his boner.

“Ooh, so that’s what a...” Atris began to say before Rox reached out and pinched the back of Atris’ arm to keep him from finishing that sentence as he gave his son a warning look and sharp shake of his head ‘no’ as he cleared his throat as you bit your lips as you realized you may have been inappropriate yourself.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to uh..?” You apologized with a grimace to Rox who waived it off before the buzzer went off that your table was ready and the four of you made it inside, Atris getting the first door as Rox got the second for you all as you went to the podium and handed in your buzzer and were shown your table.

“Woah! Look at those lobsters!” Atris marveled as you passed the giant lobster tank that had lobsters of various sizes, mostly large 7, 8 and 9 pound ones.

“I know! How hungry are you? Could you eat a whole one of those?” You asked as you held Audrey’s hand and led her to the table where all of you sat down at the table, you and Rox sitting kitty corner from each other as Atris and Audrey did the same, both Atris and Rox pulling out your chairs for you and Audrey which made you and Audrey smile brightly before they themselves sat down.

“I don’t know.” Atris shrugged.

“Have you ever had lobster before?” You asked Atris thoughtfully.

“Have I?” Atris asked his dad who shrugged as he looked over the menu. As your eyes got wide, oh gods, what if he was actually allergic to shellfish? Some kids were so picky they never tried seafood until they were in situations like this.

“You’re not allergic to shellfish are you? Have you ever had shrimp before?” You asked Atris carefully.

“Yup, they’re really good.” Atris nodded yes and you blew out a breath of relief as Rox simply grinned, seeing you so concerned for his son was just heart warming and just endeared yourself to him further. His ex wife wouldn’t have cared enough to ask or remember.

“Good, well shrimp, lobster and crab are in the same family called crustaceans so if you’ve had one of those three and weren’t allergic to it, you’ll be able to eat the others without too much trouble. Now they have something here called crawfish, which is like a lobster that’s the size of a shrimp but they do all the work of cracking them open and taking the tails out and frying those so you eat them like popcorn shrimp and those are our favorite.” You explained as you gestured to Audrey and yourself as Rox nodded in understanding to that and stored that little fact to his memory along with all the other information he was able to glean from you and continued to look at the menu for a moment before the waitress came and got your drink order, yourself getting the sweet sangria as Audrey ordered an IBC rootbeer which Atris got the same thing, wanting to match her and mirror her so she would like him as Rox got a mixed drink too and then surprised you with getting a few appetizers for all of you after you put in an order of the alligator since that was one of Audrey’s favorites as Atris lit up at the prospect of getting to try alligator, which to him was very cool and so far even Audrey was cool and he liked her immediately. His dad had been right, Audrey was beyond cute, she was gorgeous.

“Thank you, you ordered my favorite.” You smiled at Rox who lit up at that. His own eyes dancing in delight.

“Yeah? Which one?” He asked giddily, barely able to contain an excited giggle even though inwardly he was cheering and jumping for joy.

“The fondeaux, it’s in the app trio.” you specified as you pointed to it on his menu.

“It sounded delicious.” Rox nodded before Audrey started talking about her new Tik Tok video she watched that she liked as Atris lit up, really loving Tik Tok videos too as they eagerly and excitedly started talking about their favorites as Rox and yourself listened and watched as Rox noticed you were leaning in your chair towards him slightly which he liked very much as he debated whether or not to reach out and try to hold your hand under the table or not as you and him simply shared your favorite vines.

A few moments later your server came back with your drinks and got your dinner order and you got your favorite, the Pappadaux’s platter with broccolini and weren’t surprised when Rox ordered two entrees, the prime rib with a whole 7lb lobster along with the Texas red fish Pontchartrain or when Atris ordered the shrimp and cajun chicken tenderloins entree with french fries because orcs had really big appetites because even Audrey had a big appetite when she was going through growth spurts since she got the fried shrimp and crawfish platter with broccolini and dirty rice. You noticed Atris small look of disgust when Audrey ordered broccolini before he looked up and that look disappeared from his face in an instant as Audrey asked him excitedly if he had ever had it before and he admitted that he hadn't but seemed tickled that she was going to share some of hers with him because sharing food was seen as an intimate gesture to orcs and humans alike.

“Hey if it gets him to eat vegetables,” You murmured to Rox who snorted a laugh. Atris was typical because he hated vegetables. Audrey was different because she loved vegetables, you and her always had a vegetable garden together every summer and grew your own and she loved broccoli, since she could eat solid food broccoli and broccolini were her all time favorites along with green beans and peas and carrots and corn.

When the appetizers came, you all passed them around, getting tastes and bites of each one as the conversation turned more towards the mundane and what was going on in school and things and you couldn’t help but feel like you were a family sharing a meal together, it was nice. Like a whole family rather than two splintered ones. Not that you were any less legitimate or valid or whole as a family or that Rox’s family with his son was either, but since your husband’s death you felt like your family was less whole without your husband being a part of it. And you knew Rox kinda felt the same way with his own son. But he couldn’t help who Atris’ mother was.

And after a couple of drinks both you and Rox seemed to relax and cut loose more and the gentle teasing and laughing really flowed as dinner was served and then it was quiet as everyone dug into their food before the sharing began since you all got something different as you continued to pass plates around until you got to try a little of everything from everyone and then when the dessert tray came though your jaw dropped when Rox ordered one of everything and then asked for one check for all of you which you blew out a small breath of relief for because two hundred bucks was not going to cover this, hell you didn’t think four hundred would either.

“Thank you Rox for dinner.” You thanked Rox as you nudged Audrey under the table to thank him too.

“Thank you Rox.” Audrey repeated pleasantly before Audrey excused herself to go to the bathroom before Atris got up and ‘escorted’ her to make sure she made it there safe which left you and Rox at the table which you were grateful for. Because you had wanted to really talk with him openly and couldn’t do that with your kids there.

“Alright, you and I need to talk.” You informed him as you turned in your seat and turned towards him as you saw his eyes widen a smidgen as he gulped and immediately clasped his hands together in his lap anxiously.

“You’re not in trouble, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.” You reassured him when you saw how tense he suddenly became. Those knots in his shoulders were not going to be fun getting out.

“Are you trying to impress me?” You asked gently and delicately.

“Yes,” Rox admitted guiltily.

“Ok, you don’t need to do that, you really, really don’t need to blow what will probably be 500 dollars on one dinner to try to impress me or my daughter, that’s more than we spend on groceries in a month, I’ve seen you shirtless, trying to hide a boner and made you beg for mercy and ask for help, that’s all the impressing I could ever want or need, not that I’m shallow and after you for your looks which I’m not but I’m very attracted to your physical person in addition to your personality which is more important to me because who you are as a person should outweigh what you do for a living and how much you make doing it. Next, please don’t try to buy me off or buy my daughter off,” you pleaded as you picked up the jewelry box from the bag from the chocolate shop for emphasis before you put it back. “All that will do is make both of us feel cheap because any woman who can be bought isn’t worth having to begin with- also I don’t want to send the wrong message to your son thinking all he has to do is shower enough gifts, attention and kindness into any girl he wants to get what he wants from her like she’s a vending machine or something and I don’t want him thinking that myself or Audrey are those kinds of girls either, second I don’t want to send the message to my daughter to simply hold out her own affections and only bestow them for whoever can get her the latest and greatest and the bigger and the best. She’s already been approached by modeling agencies as was I when I was her age before I grew old and fat and I was younger than she was and I have done what my mother has done and turned them down because my mother didn’t want me growing up thinking that my looks were more important than anything else, more important than being a well rounded person with intelligence, morals, ethics, integrity and a depth of character deeper than a puddle and I am doing all that I can to teach the same things to my daughter.” You explained calmly and simply as Rox seemed to be a bit embarrassed as he realized what kind of impression he just gave you and Audrey and wanted a redo. He had blown his chance and missed his shot by a lot.

“Now, because I know you and I know you probably didn’t mean any of that and the fact that you’re not arguing with me or trying to justify yourself which tells me you see my point and accept it and because I genuinely like you, I’ll give you a do over how’s that?” You offered and smiled wider when he seemed to finally exhale in relief.

“Yes please, thank you. I didn’t even...realize..” Rox tried to tell you before you saw the kids coming back and you reached over and simply squeezed his arm.

“Don’t worry about it. You just probably fell back on the habits you acquired when you were courting your first wife right?” You guessed as Rox blinked in surprise as he didn’t even realize that about himself as you saw the lightbulb go off in his head.

“Yeah, I’m not like her- in hopefully any way and I didn’t want you thinking about tonight and rehashing and come to that realization on your own and then suddenly suspect me of being anything like your ex either.” you offered with a meaningful look.

“Thank you.” Rox smiled appreciatively at you as he gently squeezed his hand over yours before stealing a very quick kiss from the back of your hand right before the kids came back and sat down just as all the desserts came. And that kiss, although small, was huge. Because HOLY SHIT ROX WAS TRYING TO COURT YOU OMG. And you were beyond happy and excited about that. You wanted him to. But you wanted him to understand that things were complicated because of kids, especially impressionable ones and you had to walk a fine line.

After dessert you and Audrey opened your gifts, Audrey being totally thrilled and tickled that she got a really nice cat ear headband along with a unicorn one too and you were actually impressed at the gorgeous jewelry set he got you and you were also impressed because he obviously was listening when you talked about chocolate because you recognized all of your favorites in the boxes, one for you and one for Audrey even though you couldn’t really eat them because you both had stuffed yourselves with dinner and dessert but you thanked Rox and Atris for them all the same before you went your separate ways but not before you made plans to hang out the next day at a jump park.

“So...how did that go?” Atris asked his father as they rode home even though he didn’t see you hug or kiss his dad and thought that his father perhaps struck out since to him, you were standoffish. Polite but standoffish.

“It went exceedingly well.” Rox smiled happily as he drove them back to his place.

“How...could you tell? She didn’t even hug you or kiss you or anything.” Atris pointed out.

“And she was right in not doing so.” Rox nodded in agreement as his smile just got brighter.

“What?” Atris blinked in surprise.

“Ok, let me explain something, just because you give a girl or woman or what-have-you, a gift, she doesn’t owe you a damn thing in return, least of all affection or attention, all she owes you a simple word of thanks.” Rox grinned happily. “Remember in Daredevil when Nelson Fisk was asking Vanessa out on a date and when she told him that she couldn’t go that evening, he simply and very respectfully withdrew and simply said ‘another time then’ and she was surprised that he didn’t “try harder” by trying to buy out the gallery so she could get off early?” Rox tried to get his son to recall.

“Yeah.” Atris frowned in confusion.

“Do you remember what he said to that?” Rox instigated.

“No.” Atris frowned deeper.

“He said ‘A woman who can be bought, isn’t worth having.’ So he was being very respectful in declining even trying to see if she had a price such as buying out a whole gallery because he wanted to make sure she knew that she was priceless and worth while because he was going to put forth effort in courting her rather than figure out how much stuff it would take for her to like him because no one should be liked because of what they can give the other and affection should never be measured in stuff either.” Rox explained. “And what you saw tonight was a prime example and perfect example of how a really classy woman handled that and should handle that. Because I went overboard and it gave the impression that that’s what I was trying to do and she saw through it and saw through me, just like she has since day one and while she was polite and gracious, she made it clear that she wasn’t that kind of woman that could be bought or charmed for the price of flowers, chocolate and jewelry and she’s doing everything she can to teach her own daughter to not be that kind of woman either and everyone should respect that. You’d think I of all people would appreciate that the most and I do.” Rox just shook his head and grinned wider and prouder.

“But you didn’t mean that did you?” Atris asked.

“Nope, I sure didn’t mean any of that but and that’s what she saw, she simply saw that I was trying, that I went about it wrong but that I was trying and the second chance she’s giving me to get it right is tomorrow when we get together then. And it’s really important for you to understand that she’s not after me because of what I do for a living or how much money I make or anything like that, she doesn’t need anyone or anything because she’s a self made woman and those are the best kind there are.” Rox praised.

“Yeah, no, I got that, she was polite and nice about it but she didn’t go for it. I respect that. Same thing with Audrey, she seemed grateful but she’s weary of you because she sees what’s going on too because the reason we took a little while is because she pulled me aside and asked me if you were trying to date her mom.” Atris informed his dad.

“And what did you say?” Rox asked his son.

“I told her the truth. That you were.” Atris answered. “Then she asked me what your deal was. Which I gotta respect her for being straightforward and not pulling any punches.” Atris grinned.

“And again, what did you tell her?” Rox asked worriedly.

“That you were divorced but that this was the first “not a date” that you’ve been on since the divorce because you’re picky as hell about who you let be around me. Which I wish mom was that way and she seemed appeased by that answer.” Atris retold. “Was I wrong?” Atris asked.

“Nope you got it,” Rox shook his head and blew out the breath he had been subconsciously holding.

Meanwhile in your car.

“So, what did you think of Rox and Atris?” You asked nervously yourself as you did your best not to hold your own breath.

“I like Atris, I don’t like Rox.” Audrey sustained.

“Why?” You asked in surprise.

“Because he was trying to buy your love by buying you stuff and you have taught me to stay away from guys like that.” Audrey insisted as she gave you a meaningful look as you bit your lips.

“I have taught you that. But I hope I also taught you to be understanding of other people and other cultures. Remember how some things mean something different to different people? Like how the orcs you go to school with give each other beads and how that means something to them and how each bead means something?” You recalled.

“Yeah.” Audrey nodded.

“Well, honey, I’m not an orc, the way orcs court each other is different than how humans do or elves do or even dwarfs and Rox and I are both mixed so we both have blendings of different cultures. He was trying to be orcish with his approach because that’s mostly what he is and the one person who he dated who he ended up marrying, that’s what she liked, she liked it when he bought her things. So that’s all he’s known.” You tried to explain as Audrey seemed to consider that.

“What do you know about the woman he was married to?” Audrey asked warily.

“She is a very selfish, self centered woman, she’s what I would call, a gold digger because she was only with him because he had a good job and could take care her and treat her like a princess and Rox did that and he did it very well but it was never enough for her. But she didn’t take care of him in return. What she did was simply give him a son and thought that’s all she had to do to be set up for life, she didn’t know how to clean her own house and instead of learning, she hired someone else to do it. She got a nanny so she didn’t have to stay home and take care of Atris so she could go shopping all the time without a stroller and she spent much more than Rox could make and got him into debt over his head without telling him. She went to a plastic surgeon and made herself as pretty as she could be on the outside and then she did the worst thing a marriage mate could do to another, she cheated on him and didn’t cheat on him with just anyone, she cheated on him with his boss, and left him for someone who made a lot more money than he did because to her, that’s all that matters. She hurt him and betrayed him and was unfaithful to him and when they got divorced, she got custody of their son, solely for child support payments which she doesn’t even spend on Atris, Rox buys all of his son’s clothes and pays for him to go to a private school and pays for his tuition and school supplies. When he gets home from school through the week, he has a nanny to take care of him and he sees more of her than he does his own mom and his mom doesn’t even know how to cook and never wanted to learn. All the “cooking” she does is cookies because she can spoon some dough from a tub onto a cookie sheet and make it look like she can cook. Otherwise she has a personal chef to cook for her. And while that sounds like a nice life, it isn’t. Do you want to know why?” You asked her.

“Why?” Audrey asked.

“Because the guy she’s with, while he may take care of all her bills financially, he demands that she look perfect and act perfect all the time. She’s not allowed to have a bad day, even a bad hair day. He expects her to always agree with him whenever they talk about anything and even when he’s mean and he’s in a bad mood, it’s her job to cater to his every whim and make him feel better, whatever it takes to do that and when he tells her to jump she’s expected to ask ‘how high?’and then jump twice as high as he tells her to jump, metaphorically speaking. She’s not allowed to tell him no, ever. So when he wants sex, even if she’s not in the mood, even if she’s mad at him, even if she’s sick or not feeling well, she has to have sex with him anyway and she’s not allowed to fight back or stand up for herself in any way. She’s not her own person, he owns her and all she is- is property to him and he treats her as his slave and she isn’t allowed to have self respect or dignity unless he’s the one to give it to her and tell her it’s ok for her to have it in very small increments and for very brief amounts of time and he literally embarrasses her every chance he gets, he makes fun of her all the time and she’s the butt of every joke she tells and she’s not allowed to get mad about it, she’s expected to laugh along with him and go ‘you’re right sweetie, of course I’m a stupid whore who only knows how to spend money and can’t even do simple math’,” You twisted your voice to sound like a valley girl which made Audrey frown.

“And how I know this is because I’ve seen her at that office when I first started there, she and her current guy were picking up something and the way he treated her filled me with rage. And I can tell you right now that Rox never treated her that way, Rox has never even treated me that way. He actually respects me as a person and a human being and on days when I’m having a bad day, he’s the one to ask what he can do to make it better. These chocolates that he got me? Are all my favorite kinds, which means when we’ve talked about chocolate, he listened, and paid attention and paid enough attention to remember to get them for me. And these flowers? Again, my favorites. He didn’t have to do anything tonight, he didn’t have to buy dinner and he didn’t have to order half the menu. He only did it to try to help because of what today was. He was the only one who noticed I was having a rough day today because it’s my anniversary and Daddy isn’t here to celebrate it with me and he was the only one who cared enough to notice I wasn’t normal and ask about it and then asked if there was anything he could do to help and coming to dinner tonight was the first thing he thought of so that you and I wouldn’t have to be alone. He cares because he’s my friend. He has been since the beginning. And I know he went overboard and went about everything all wrong because he likes me and he’s allowed to like me and he wants to date me and I want to date him but I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want him to think that I’m anything like his ex wife and please understand that I didn’t ask him to do anything, I didn’t ask for anything from him- he just gave because he’s generous and because he could. So when you went to the bathroom I explained to him that I am not like his ex wife and that I didn’t need all of that. But I understood that he was just trying. And just the fact that he tried his best was enough just like I keep telling you that at school, as long as you tried your best and gave your best effort, that’s all I’ll ever ask of you. I never ask that you get straight A’s. I do my best to never ask more from you than what you’re capable of giving but that you continue to grow and learn. So think of this as a learning exercise for all of us. I’m glad that you like Atris though. He seems like a good kid, even though he has a challenging home life and I know Rox does all he can with him to be a good father just like I do all I can and do my best to be the best mom to you that I can be. So how about you cut him some slack and let him try again and don’t write him off just yet. Give him another chance. I know that if our positions were reversed, he’d do the same for me. Everyone usually gets the first time they try something new- wrong. And if he’s going to do his best to try again, then we are going to be gracious and accept that.” You insisted.

“Is that what you did for Daddy?” Audrey asked softly as she finally dug into her chocolates.

“So many times I lost count. I gave Daddy all the tries he wanted or needed until he got it right and helped him get it right too.” You nodded.

“Ok, fine.” Audrey caved as you grinned victoriously.

“Plus, I mean maybe my eyes were deceiving me, but did you and Atris actually...you know...get along?” You gently teased.

“Maybe we did, maybe we just were trying not to be as awkward as you and Rox were.” Audrey sassed back.

“Oooh, really?” You laughed heartily.

“It was almost as awkward as a school dance.” Audrey giggled.

“Wow!” You cackled. “Yeah, well would you rather I fall all over him? Hugging him and kissing him and making googly eyes at him? I could totally blow obnoxious kisses at him too.” You teased back as Audrey made a sound that was half way between gagging and like she was a cat that was dying.

“Nooo!” She howled as you both dissolved into giggles. “Come on Mom!” Audrey pleaded. “You’re not gonna do that tomorrow are you?” Audrey asked with a wincing grimace.

“I don’t know, depends on Rox doesn’t it?” You put to her. “Just do me a favor and keep trying to get along with Atris and if it doesn’t work out between Rox and me, hopefully you’ll gain a friend in Atris either way.” You shrugged.

“That would be nice.” Audrey nodded in agreement.

“And if you could give Rox the benefit of the doubt and try to get along with him too, I would greatly appreciate it.” You requested.

“We’ll see.” Audrey huffed.

“And I feel I need to make something clear- you will not use Rox or gods forbid Atris- to get what you want, don’t see Rox trying to date me as your chance to ask for anything and everything you could ever want, like he’s a genie and will grant you any wish you make, like toys or whatever. You will not sell your pleasantness and niceness to him for stuff. Ok? Because girls who do that, especially at your age, end up like his ex wife and I will be damned if that ever happens to either you or me. You’re better than that and you’re not a spoiled brat. If anything I hope you’ve learned that you need to work for what you want and get it for yourself and earn the things you want.” You insisted sternly.

“Ok,” Audrey agreed.

#exophilia #orc #Modern Orcs #modern orc love story

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regret-dot-jpg · 6 years

Text

Run Run Rudolph

Chapter 1: (i’ll add on the other chapters in reblogs)

If there was one thing Blackwatch knew how to do, it was how to celebrate the holidays.

They celebrated just about every major holiday— Shogatsu, Diwali, Hanukkah, Christmas, you name it. Genji suspected it was largely because the agents just wanted a reason to party.

When he first arrived at Blackwatch, he had found it annoying. The constant cheer was...a bit much. But even he hadn’t been able to resist the buzz of excitement that came with the holiday season. Eventually, after an unbelievable amount of bargaining, he ended up being dragged along to Overwatch’s annual Christmas party by none other than a certain cowboy.

Overwatch and Blackwatch threw a joint Christmas party each year, one that was known for being a very big event. With a lot of people there, which was why Genji had been apprehensive to attend. But against all expectations, he had actually enjoyed himself. A large part of it was thanks to Jesse, who at that point he had taken a liking to (not like he would’ve admitted it though). Looking back, Genji guessed that the Christmas party was what had started his definite fondness for Overwatch’s holiday season.

Whatever the case was, he was willing to admit that he was also looking forward to this year’s Christmas party. But that had nothing on Jesse’s excitement, which was practically tangible as the cowboy eyed the decorations lining the walls of the lounge.

“Just a week til the party, Gen.” Jesse grinned, drumming his fingers on the cup of hot chocolate in his grip. He lifted the cup to his lips, only to wince and immediately lower it.

“And you are just one more sip away from completely burning your tongue.” Genji noted with dry amusement.

“Pretty sure I’m already there.” Jesse made a face, gingerly set the cup down on the round table between them. For good measure, he pushed the cup a few inches away from him.

Genji snorted in amusement. He paused to eye the agents setting up a mistletoe right above the doorway.

“That’s either gonna go really wrong, or really right.” The cowboy mused, following his gaze. The agents were now giggling uncontrollably, probably thinking about the chaos that would ensue, “Probably a bit of both.”

Genji couldn’t help but agree. At the very least, it was bound to be a little entertaining.

“Is Blackwatch doing anything special this year?” He asked, leaning back in his seat. His leg was bent and drawn up onto it, letting him rest his arm on his knee. Jesse liked to say he made sitting look “edgy”.

“For the party? I think we’re getting a bouncy house.”

“A bouncy house.” Genji repeated, blinking. He raised an eyebrow, “Those are for children.”

“Then it’s a bouncy house for not-children. Don’t know if we actually are getting one, though. I’ll ask Reyes. But speaking of the party…” Jesse leaned forward, grinning. There was a very noticeable mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “What say we have a lil wager?”

“I’m not wearing a mistletoe headband, Jesse.”

Jesse blinked, was silent for about five seconds, then promptly burst into laughter.

“That’s not what I was gonna suggest, but I shoulda.” He snickered, “Missed an opportunity right there. You’d probably punch the lights out of anybody with a two foot radius.”

Jesse paused there, then mock-dramatically clasped his hands together, fluttering thick brown lashes, “And who knows? We could’ve even smooched a little.”

Genji purposely ignored how something in his chest twitched at the joke.

“If you so much as think about getting me a mistletoe headband, the next time I’m on laundry duty, I’m burning your laundry.”

As per Blackwatch tradition, all the agents with for, rooms in the same hallway took turns doing everybody’s laundry. While it wasn’t the worst thing to do, nobody (including Genji) enjoyed laundry duty. But he and Jesse had room right next to each other, so the threat was very much possible.

“Relax, I ain’t doing that. Yet. But, funny you should mention laundry duty….”

Genji’s tilted his head in curiosity, “What about it?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could have a bet for the Christmas party.” Jesse smiled slyly, “Loser takes the other’s laundry shift for a month.”

Genji raised an eyebrow. Oh, he was really interested now.

“Is that so?” He said, the corner of his mouth quirking up, “What’s the bet?”

Jesse paused to think, drumming on the table as he thought. After a few moments, his face lit up with an idea.

“How bout this—I wear something completely fucking ridiculous or the entire party. If it’s crazy enough, I win. If not, you win.”

Genji considered the bet. Fair enough, he supposed. But he couldn’t pass up the clear opportunity laid out before him.

“Hmm. That might be a little unfair.” Genji declared nonchalantly, a faint smirk spreading across his face, “It might be hard to find something even more ridiculous than what you’re already wearing.”

Jesse’s mouth fell open in a mix of amusement and indignation.

“Really. Is that what you think?”

“Yes. Why?” Genji teased, looking straight at the cowboy in what was clearly a challenge, “Already worried you’re going to lose?

Jesse laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, Genji, sweetheart.” He smiled sweetly, “You’re definitely losing this bet.”

_____________

The problem with being two of Blackwatch’s— scratch that, Overwatch’s — most elite agents was that they were well known. That, combined with Jesse’s general popularity because of his charm, Genji’s apparently “mysteriously dangerous” persona, and their reputation as the “dynamic duo” (Jesse’s words, not his) word of their bet spread relatively quickly.

It wasn’t like it was plastered everywhere he went, but Genji had definitely seen multiple agents trying to figure out the outcome of the bet. Every now and then, he would catch a couple agents looking over at him and Jesse, excitedly whispering. Hell, even Reyes brought it up during a team briefing (“Just don’t walk into the party naked , okay?”). And then Angela mentioned it during a routine checkup the next day.

Jesse, of course, ate it all up.

Knowing him, it was no secret that he was going to wear something utterly ridiculous. The question was what. It was a wild card. He refused to say what he was planning, so all Genji could do was guess. By the day of the party, Jesse had definitely found something, if the excited, conspirative grin he had on his face throughout all of lunch meant anything.

Lunch that day was light, largely because of how busy the kitchen staff was with preparing the food for the Christmas party in the evening. The bustling, buzzing energy of the kitchen staff was matched intensely by all the other agents. The general atmosphere could only be described as excited, something which Jesse embodied pretty well.

“Hate to break it to ya Genji, but you’re going down.” The cowboy declared matter of factly, slapping a hand down on the table for emphasis.

“Hmm.” Genji cocked his head, “In what? Today’s training session or the bet?”

“Both, probably. You’ll see.” Jesse winked, “You’re in for a big surprise, hon.”

“And what would that surprise be?”

“If I told ya it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” Jesse sarcastically shook his finger at him, pretending as if he was scolding a child. Genji just shook his head in fond exasperation.

Turns out, the both won the training session, being that they ended up on the same team. It was them against a team of four, which sounded unfair until you realized how easily they wiped the floor with their opponents. Genji would have felt a little bad about it, if it wasn't so oddly entertaining. But the moment the session was over, Jesse glanced at the clock and began packing up his gear.

“You’re in a hurry.” Genji noted, watching Jesse quickly undo the straps of of his standard issued training chest armor. He could see the four agents they fought walking past out of the corner of his eye, regarding the two with almost reverent expressions.

Jesse glanced at the clock once more, then nodded.

“Yup. It’s five. Just two hours until the party. I have to shower and get ready.”

Genji leaned against the wall. He didn’t have to wear any armor, being his most of his body was armor, so he just waited for the cowboy to finish taking off his.

“You need two hours to get ready?” He asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Hey, I ain’t just wearing some generic ugly sweater. Besides, I don’t think I’ll need all that time, but just in case, ya know?” Jesse gesture vaguely, then dumped his armor into a bin. After double checking that Peacekeeper was in its holster, Jesse turned to the cyborg with an impish grin.

“I gotta go. And I’ll see you at the party.” Jesse snapped both his hand into a finger gun. With that, he turned and strided off, a noticeable pep in his step and cheerful whistling giving away his excitement.

Genji watched him go, undeniably curious about what was in store. But, he figured, he could wait. He would find out soon enough, anyway.

_____________

“Genji!”

The cyborg turned in the direction of the voice to see Angela walking towards him in a green sweater, a cup of eggnog in her hand and a bright smile on her face. Thankfully, the Christmas music blasting over the sound system wasn’t too loud, so she didn’t have to yell again to be heard.

The party was starting to reach full swing around them, as Christmas music blared over the loudspeakers and agents mingled and danced. Genji could hear the distant voices of a lively karaoke duet by the piano. The walls were lined with paper snowflakes, shining Christmas lights, and other decorations. Every now and then, little fake snow machines would shoot out artificial snowflakes, dousing nearby agents, which either made them laugh in delight or groan in annoyance.

It was around 7:30 or so, and Genji could say that, yes, he was enjoying himself. While he was no longer much of a big party person, he was much better with such events than he was when he first joined Blackwatch. As long as he could do what he wanted at his own pace, parties weren’t bad.

“Hello, Angela.” Genji tipped his head in greeting.

“Have you tried the eggnog yet?” Angela paused to take a sip of said drink, “It’s very good.”

“I will later, once Captain Amari has finished beating Reinhardt.” His voice lifted upwards with amusement towards the end of his statement. Ana and Reinhardt were currently in a competition to make the best gingerbread house in the quickest amount of time. To put it lightly, Ana was winning.

“That must be soon, by the looks of it.” She smiled, watching the competition for a bit, before resuming the conversation, “Is Jesse here yet?”

“If he was, I have a feeling we would know.” Genji said dryly. Angela laughed, nodding.

“That’s true.” She said, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Jesse still wasn’t here yet, and Genji couldn’t help but wonder what was taking him so much time. Had his costume ripped? Or perhaps he was chickening out, Genji mused. No, that was unlikely. Jesse was too much of a reckless idiot to chicken out over something like this.

“It must be something big, if he is taking so long.” Angela mused, “Maybe he’s wearing a giant inflatable snowman costume.”

Genji snorted in amusement, “Knowing him, that’s actually possible.”

At that very moment, the set of double doors slammed open. Being that there was a party going on, that was a pretty common occurrence with people coming and going, so Genji wouldn’t have paid it any special attention.

But what did get his attention, and the attention of everybody nearby, was the giant red and green present box being wheeled in. The present box was huge, to the point that if it was any bigger it might not have fit in the doorway.

The agent wheeling the giant present in was a man he didn’t recognize. The man looked around the room, as if he was looking for somebody, then set his gaze on Genji.

“Present for Genji Shimada.” The agent announced, wheeling the present towards him. Genji blinked, confusion settling in as he belatedly registered that, yes, the giant present was for him. Angela gave him a curious look, but he was just as lost as she was. The man came to a stop a few feet from Genji, sliding the metal wheeling contraption away from the present and setting it down.

With that, he backed away, allowing a curious crowd to form around Genji and the giant present. This close, he could guess that box was probably big enough to hold at least two people. This all happened within the span of a few minutes, and it was so out of the blue Genji wasn’t sure if it was real.

“....What?” Genji muttered in confusion, taking a half-step forward. And that was all he was able to do before the present suddenly fell open, the cardboards walls of the box hitting the ground and revealing—

“ Suuurpriiiiiiiise!”

The first thing he noticed was the red mini skirt.

A second later, his brain caught up with was happening and then he actually registered what he was looking at. Jesse was standing inside the now open box, posing flamboyantly with his hips swung to one side and one arm up in the air with flourish. He was missing his cowboy hat, instead wearing a Santa hat cocked slightly to the side, more of a decoration than actual a hat. But as Genji’s eyes dipped lower, he realized that there was a much, much bigger problem on hand.

Jesse hadn't just ditched the cowboy hat; he had ditched all of his normal getup. Instead, he had on what appeared to be a Santa costume of some sort. But....barely. There was no way that qualified as clothing. He had on a red, off the shoulder crop top and sleek white gloves covering half of his forearms. The sleeves of the top went down to his elbows, ending with a strip of fluffy-looking white cloth. But the part of the top covering his torso, however, was nowhere near as modest.

The neckline of the top, being that it was off the shoulder, dipped distractingly low. To make matters worse, the first of the three black buttons on the front was unbuttoned, making the center of the top dip into a sharp, revealing V. That, coupled with how distractingly tight the top was, practically put a spotlight on Jesse’s pecs. The red fabric clung to his chest, leaving little to the imagination.

What was almost equally distracting was how the red crop top cut off directly underneath his chest. All the golden-tan muscle of his torso was on full display, from his abs down to his hips. God, his hips. Genji’s eyes couldn’t help but follow down the bare curves of his body, tracing from the waist to wide hips.

A matching red mini skirt clung to Jesse’s noticeable hips, with a fake black belt with a golden buckle along the top edge, and..….oh, wow, that was a short skirt. It only reached past a few inches down his thick thighs. The entire image was only amplified by how the skirt seemed to strain over his thighs and hips, hugging the curves tightly. It was short. Dangerously short.

Genji was keenly aware that skirts like that could slide up very, very easily.

When he was finally able to drag his gaze lower, down legs that seemed to go on for miles, he noticed the above-the-knee red and white socks. The socks, which were spiral-striped like a candy cane, disappeared into black high heels with shiny golden buckles.

Once he had dazedly taken in all of the outfit, Genji’s gaze flitted back up to Jesse’s face, only to be caught off guard again when he realized that Jesse had put on makeup. His lips were shiny with glittery lipstick, and his thickly lashed, brown eyes were embellished with dark red, slightly glittery eyeshadow and winged eyeliner.

“Well?” Jesse grinned, lowering his hand back to his side and waiting expectantly for a reaction. The crowd surrounding them was entirely quiet, seemingly just as shocked.

Genji stared wordlessly, eyes wide and at a complete loss for words.

“You…” He muttered, internally grasping for full sentences. Jesse raised an eyebrow and strided closer, which of course made Genji lose his train of thought as he stared at the cowboy’s swaying hips.

He swallowed dryly.

“You win.”

Around them, the crowd gathered burst to life, hooting with the energy that could only be found at parties. Jesse’s eyes lit up with victory, “Told ya so, sweetheart. You are stuck with laundry duty, sucker. And one more thing...Check this out. I even got one a’ those temporary tattoos.”

Jesse spun on his heel, and all coherent thought flew out of Genji’s head as he stared at the sight before him. Beside him, Angela let out a surprised little gasp. There, on the small of Jesse’s back, was the word “Naughty”, written out in gaudy cursive font. A tramp stamp, that part of him from his old life pointed out.

And even using every last bit of his willpower, Genji wasn’t able to stop his eyes from dipping even lower.

It was downright illegal how goddamn amazing Jesse’s ass looked in that mini skirt. Something in Genji must have short circuited, because there wasn’t a single thought in his mind in that moment, aside from the ones that he immediately shut out. He just couldn’t stop staring.

Thankfully, Jesse turned back around to face him after a few seconds, and Genji was resolutely not disappointed.

“Wow.” Angela said, eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline. She shook her head, a disbelieving smile on her face.

“That’s not all. Got one last surprise.” Jesse declared patting his hip.

He adjusted his skirt, hips wiggling as he shifted it around slightly.Then he dipped his thumbs under the fabric and suddenly pulled up two very thin black strips. Jesse pulled the strips up over his hip bones, then let them snap onto the skin there.

Genji stared at thin, string-like black strips standing out against the the tan skin just below Jesse’s waist, brain faltering as he the realization slowly sunk in.

“Guess what?” Jesse grinned, lips glinting with the glittery lipstick, “It came with a g string.”

Genji looked down at the black strips, then up at Jesse, then back down, and finally made the connection between the words and what he was looking at.

The crowd around them practically exploded. The agents clamored with delighted laughter and whooping, loudly cheering on the entire scandalousness of the situation. Somebody wolf whistled loudly. Jesse laughed and blew a kiss in that general direction. His flamboyant entrance and his outfit was just what was need to start tipping the Christmas party into the wild spectacle it was known for being. And he knew it, too, if his smug grin said anything.

This was going to be a long party.

#mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #angela ziegler #lena oxton #gabriel reyes #ana amari #jack morrison #torbjorn #reinhardt wilhelm #fic #run run rudolph

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fhylie · 6 years

Text

Eleven days ago, my divorce was finalized.

I want to lead with that, because if feels like I've been holding myself in for a long, long time. Probably unhealthily long. I think it's a signature of the relationship that I ended that I feel like me having emotions revealed to someone else can only end badly. 'Why not just avoid that,' I constantly say to myself, 'and then other people don't have to get hurt by me?' You can see the obvious wrongness in that line of thinking, I hope. Hiding my feelings from people was an unhelpful poison and only wound me up repeatedly back on myself until I could only snap angrily or float emotionlessly, usually the second.

In the interest of self-help, I want to try and lay out the course of what prompted me to end my marriage. Maybe having it out there will help, maybe it won't. What I don't intend to do is name names, because that's not really good for anyone. Frankly, the people that know me already know who anyone I'm about to describe is.

Let's start at the end and work backwards, I suppose. On October 23rd, 2016, I had a heated argument with my ex-wife about whether or not I was allowed to be friends with a girl I met online through FFXIV. We had been friends for a while before that, probably a good year or so, and my ex-wife knew that the two of us talked about our personal problems when we couldn't get past them ourselves. I think that my ex-wife deeply envied that connection, because over time I had come to not be able to have those sorts of discussions with her, and mostly this was because almost all of the problems I had been having had my ex-wife at their root.

Going through the list, the problem we had with the most immediacy was my ex-wife's refusal or inability to leave our condo, which meant that the condo we had bought together relied solely on my income, and that any and all tasks requiring interacting with the outside world fell to me. I don't want to suggest that we divided things in an equal way, either, as almost all of the cooking and most of the cleaning was myself as well. In fairness, she was always the one to do laundry, and she rarely asked for help with that. However, it was a status quo I had been handling for a very long time, and so it felt very natural, but not enjoyable in any way. With my public transit commute for work, my usual days began at 5am and I would be home at 6pm, a little later if grocery shopping was needed, after which I would handle the food. When we spent time together it was usually to play games or watch shows together, which usually meant I stayed up very late - a habit I still haven't broken.

Anyways, the reasons behind her habits were a deep depression and anxiety about other people which were brought on after her mother passed away some years earlier (I want to say around 2007-2008 but can't recall), as well as her development of fibromyalgia, which left her in pain and exhausted. Looking back, I feel like I didn't do enough to take care of the first part of things, but I don't know if I ever could have done anything about the second part. I don't know that I ever could have felt like I did enough, honestly, and for a long time my role in our relationship was of a caretaker. Besides that, her emotional problems had been present before her mom passed, and we were not physically intimate for a considerable time before this October argument; probably years. It's difficult to recall when, specifically. All of these things resulted in a grinding lack of confidence in both of us, but I feel like she was always less determined than me to carry on and do things that needed to be done, even before medical problems with a concern.

Let's continue backwards in time. At the time of our marriage in 2012, my ex-wife had a best friend, of sorts, who she had met online through various games, and during 2011 and 12 actually lived with us in Canada, sharing an apartment and then later our condo with us and her husband. They were American, so there were constraints on what sort of jobs they were able to obtain, but the best friend had moved here ostensibly to go to school at the local university, so that only mattered for her husband. He was a nice enough sort, liked to read books and talk about writing. A bit of a weird guy, awkward, but then so am I.

We never really got along, I think, because of the greater context of my ex-wife's and her best friend's relationship. Before the American couple moved in, late in my relationship I was still very unhappy with the burden of responsibility I had - still with those 13-14 hour work days in 2009 or 10. I did mention I had been doing this for a while. But the important part of that time period was that one night, my ex-wife tearfully confessed to me that she thought she loved the best friend she still had not met in real life, and who was also married, and that she didn't want to lose me because of it. She asked for permission to be polyamorous, and I was some kind of combination of emotionally dishonest, a big idiot, and afraid of losing someone I had been with since 2001, so I said it was okay. That was what I had always done: let her have what she wanted and thought would make her happy and paid the cost myself. It was why it had been okay for her to leave her job after her mom died, as well, to me, even though what I knew I should have done was push her towards better recovery instead of seeking solace from people online.

So the Americans moved across the continent from the far southeastern states and the best friend and my ex-wife began their relationship. Maybe to their credit there was a minimum of physical intimacy between the two of them while I was present, but again, let's keep in mind how often I wasn't. During this time I was still physically intimate with my ex-wife as well, though probably not often enough that it mattered enough for her to even seek out a second partner. My ex-wife maintained during our divorce proceedings and to this day that they were not ever physical, though I clearly remember her embarrassed conversations on the subject with the best friend while I was around. More to the point, I specifically asked the best friend after the October 23, 2016 argument about the physical nature of their relationship and was told that I was right, and that she was upset because she thought I knew.

As a side note, the best friend is probably not a trustworthy witness for any of this, since she had/has her own emotional problems, but to be honest, I can't bring myself to be angry at her. It's not her fault I was bad enough at relationships to let it get that far. I know that after she moved away from Canada due to the cost of living here and other things related to her husband's family she had a serious breakdown, and I hope that her experiences with us didn't contribute to that. She was a good person, I think, when her presence wasn't actively fucking up my relationship with my ex-wife.

After the Americans had been around for a while, my ex-wife had decided to finally seek the benefit of psychiatric help after shutting herself in since 2007, so this would have been about 4 years, I think, of that, and less than a year or so of being with her friend. I remember feeling upset but not upset that she listened to advice about seeking help from her friend and not me, but she was getting help, so it was a net good, wherever it came from. I wanted what was good for her, and this was an extremely positive step.

After starting on antidepressants, there was a very brief spark, I think, of the person she had been nearer to the start of our relationship. She had energy, she had positive emotions, both of which had been very rare. She left the house at first with me and then on her own and looked for work, and then got a job which she stayed at for a long enough period for us to be able to move from the small apartment we were sharing with 2 other people into a good sized condo. I felt like things might have started to get better. She asked me to marry her, saying that the new mental clarity she had had from the drugs had led her to realize the depth and importance of everything I was doing for her, and thinking a dark time in my life was finally over with, I said yes. We got married in the spring of 2012, and the best friend was in the wedding party. I'm not actually clear if she was maid of honour, but it's not really important.

Then my ex-wife stopped. The antidepressants weren't enough, the counselling sessions didn't help so she stopped going, the fibromyalgia got worse, and there were too many things she didn't like about her job. I started going with her to her counselling sessions, paid for by her employer in an effort to get her back to work, to make sure she was doing them. There were maybe two times after that where she bothered to go. After a time she lost her job and, over that time, lost her willingness to go outside for any reason. The Americans moved away due to a death in the husband's family and the cost of living in this town, as I mentioned above, and I remember helping them pack their boxes and move their things into a van to go all the way back across the continent, marking one of the only times that my ex-wife came outside of the condo for any reason that year. While they were leaving, the husband took me aside privately and expressed his concern that we might not be able to afford the condo, to which I smiled tightly and said we would manage. We did manage, barely.

I became very depressed over this entire ten year time period, and I think my depression echoed hers. I felt like I wasn't good enough, that my job wasn't enough financially and so I felt like a failure there, and that I wasn't enough emotionally and so that was what made my ex-wife seek out this other relationship. Other failures in my life with education and friendships didn't help much either. I cut off contact slowly with friends, cancelling our then weekly D&D games citing my inability to run a game and manage the increasing emotional demands of my relationship. They all knew my ex-wife was jittery about having people over, even if she was friends with some of them and sometimes had played with us. In truth that was partially it, but I was also feeling ashamed at my failures and didn't feel like I could hold up being a good host anymore. It was easier for me to run away from that, and so I slowly faded away from that group of friends.

When I started playing Final Fantasy XIV at the start of A Realm Reborn, it wasn't the first MMO I played. I had played World of Warcraft for some years with the very same friends I was moving away from emotionally, not to mention my ex-wife and her best friend. I met some of the other people at PAX in Seattle a few times as well. I guess what I was unprepared for was the tremendous difference in community between WoW and XIV. Apparently, Blizzard games don't have the most friendly fan bases, and the way I had conducted myself in public forums with endless levels of concern trolling and meme yelling in trade chat certainly didn't exclude me from that judgement. But even at the outset, XIV felt different. Maybe it was because it was new, maybe it was because I was lucky, but I hit upon TALE, the free company I am with now and the one I would like to have said I always stayed with, and they were this strange group of wonderful people and roleplayers. Some of them were weird as hell, but so was I and they put up with my brand of weirdness. I had resolved to have a way better online persona in this community, and it paid off hugely.

My ex-wife and I and the best friend were all members in this time period. We all made friends and roleplayed with people in TALE and out. The ex-wife and her best friend both liked to ERP on their male characters with each other (not new behaviour, mind you), whether or not I was around. It shocked some people when it came up that we were long term dating, then married, since they knew about the other relationship first. When their relationship became more distant after the best friend moved away, my ex-wife found various new ERP partners and I didn't bat an eye, because I had been dealing with it for so long. She had stopped asking me if it was okay a long time ago, anyways. To their credit, some of those partners which found out about our relationship messaged me to ask if it was okay, which I said it was, because what basis did I have to start having a problem with it now?

I met a friend living in the same town as me through TALE. I met people I'm going to Fanfest with this year through TALE as well. I even met people that I felt like I could talk about my personal feelings regarding my relationship with. Some of them were the ERP partners of my ex-wife; I think it's significant to note that they didn't stop. A small few of them, great people all, actually had tips to try and make things better, or were disturbed that the gamer couple relationship they had seen from the outside and admired wasn't what they thought it was and wanted to prop it up since I was very open about wanting to fix things and being willing to take on anything I could to do so. One of those was a girl my ex-wife started an argument about.

I want to be clear that I think there was something to admire in our relationship. We had been together for such a long time, we were easy in each other's company, we did things together. If you didn't know the other things about our relationship and you took the way I acted about and the words I said as truth, it looked like we were a couple that was weathering the storm and our love was getting us through it. In the end, though, that wasn't true.

What my ex-wife saw is that I stayed up late to talk to a girl, I think probably more than a few times. It looked to her like I was cheating on her. Now, I know what the initial outside thought is: hey, didn't we just get through a million words about her polyamory and ERP habits? I'd like to contest that thought, but I can't. It always made the entire thing ridiculous to me, and it was the bedrock of why our marriage ended. So, having this problem with me speaking to this girl over IMs or in game, my ex-wife decided to implement controls.

At first, I was not allowed to speak to her on voice chat if my ex-wife was at home, which was always, and this became while she was at her computer, which was most of the time. This was fine, because I never got on voice chat except for raid stuff. Then, she discouraged us speaking over instant message while my ex-wife was around. Kind of weird, but I guess in an out of sight out of mind way it works. Typing to each other in game was apparently okay, because of... reasons? Once before October she got very angry that I was on voice chat at the same time as the girl while doing some content stuff with other people, which sparked a small argument about what it is I was allowed to do and who I was allowed to speak to. I felt beaten down.

I left TALE for a brief period and the both of us joined a different free company who are, by the way, wonderful people. I strongly recall someone saying something extremely minor to me and one of the officers very quickly PMing me to say was that okay? I think at this point my skin was so thick from dealing with emotional distress that I didn't even notice, but I played it off as sure, no, I'm not offended. Nevertheless, I had a difficult time really connecting with this new group of roleplayers, both because it was a new group and because I had a lot of misgivings with leaving my old one under very strange pretenses. Not that I didn't still talk to them sometimes, but we all know it's hard to feel included when you're not in the main channel of discussion. If you folks from the other company are reading this, I wish things could be less awkward.

So, October 23rd, 2016, after Thanksgiving and before Halloween. I'm still not exactly sure what made my ex-wife flip her lid, but I think it was partway between her delusion that the girl and I were hiding an affair from her and the fact that all of her controls were not having whatever the intended effect was supposed to have been. Either way, she just lost it and started messaging the girl in a public channel we were both in about how dare she do this to us and that I had lied to both of them about the things she said about what I was allowed to do. At the same time as acknowledging that I wasn't allowed to talk to her. Since the two of us were in the same room, the back half of this argument was the two of us yelling at each other in our condo. Her yelling and crying at the same time, and me trying to placate her and slowly but surely growing more frustrated until she gave the ultimatum that I had to choose my ex-wife or this girl I talked to online, and I told her fuck you, you can't tell me who I can be friends with, either you trust me or you don't. I stormed off with no explanation to the girl until much later. I sat in the bathroom of our condo with a spinning head and felt sick for a long time. I couldn't believe the violent physical reaction I was having to all this.

It was at that time that I first thought to myself that I had to try one more time, and if it didn't work I was going to get out.

A few days passed without resolution to the argument. I messaged the girl with what had happened, because she deserved to know, and found out that my ex-wife and her had spoken about this very same subject months earlier and been reassured that no, we were not having an affair. I supposed it made sense to my ex-wife that of course we would lie about it. At the end of those few days I told my now ex-wife that I wanted a divorce over the way she had treated not just me but many other people, but me most of all, for years. It was fucking hard to do and I'm not sure how I did it on that specific day.

She resolved to try harder, to start trying to leave the apartment if I would help her by going on walks, we resolved to go to couples therapy, where I got out many of the things I've said above. It didn't take. I sought my own help for depression and told a physician that I thought I was trapped in an abusive relationship. The person I was referred to was ... not good, for many reasons. My ex-wife did not try harder. She fought me every time I tried to get her out of the condo for a walk. She hated the times of day we could go (walking in the dark could be bad!) and was actively spiteful to anyone we interacted with if the walk was also to go and accomplish anything, like walking to the pharmacy for her medication. I knew nothing was going to change. It felt like she was just going through the motions to get me back to where I was before, and I couldn't be in that place anymore.

When I told her we were going through with the divorce, she cried and I felt numb. She asked me if there was anything she could do, and I told her if she had another relationship that she should absolutely not decide it was polyamorous partway through. Yes, a lot of allowing that is on me, but if there was any root to the failure it was that. She cried at that too.

I spoke with my parents and the real life friends I had cut off years ago and I was free. Some of them with strong views on the sanctity of marriage said I should stay the course, but I knew what the right decision was the entire time and I knew that telling her that the things she had done were okay was the wrong thing to do. I reconnected with a lot of people in my life and I kept talking to the girl and the rest of my online friends and I knew that everything was going to be okay eventually.

On October 12, 2018, which would have been my 17th anniversary of the start of dating my ex-wife, our divorce was finalized by the government of Canada, but if you ask me, that argument about whether I was allowed to choose my own friends was when it really died.

#personal #there's so much more that I left out #but this is the gist of the reasons behind the divorce #I still feel like I've only scratched the surface too #apologies for this being kind of all over the place timewise but that's just how it fell out #and I feel like it was time to get it out

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